


This way comes

by atomicmuffin



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Shitton Of Original Characters, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Susan, Black Family Being Crazy, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Edmund Being A Sarcastic Troll, Edmund Snape Pevensie, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Lucy Being A Cheerful Troll, Lucy Prewett Pevensie, Mama Bear Peter, Marauders' Era, Muggleborn Peter Pevensie, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Partially Beta'ed, Post-The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, Reincarnation, Susan Black Pevensie, Unreliable Narrator, What Is Up With Susan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-05 07:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15165323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicmuffin/pseuds/atomicmuffin
Summary: So, a magnificent Gryffindor, a gentle Ravenclaw, a just Slytherin and a valiant Hufflepuff walk into a magical castle...stop me if you already know that one.Reincarnated Pevensies at Hogwarts AU, Marauders Era. Post 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' AU





	1. 31th of July

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm posting an old work of mine on Ao3, perhaps some of you are familiar with it from FF.net ^^
> 
> I've recently rewritten chapter one because I wasn't happy about it, however chapter two to eight are the originals and from 2016...Chapter two from eight are beta'ed by kaida171 (kudos to her). I'll probably post one chapter per week until I get to chapter 10.

_"I finally snapped two days before my seventh birthday. A boy with more courage than common sense, said something about my mother and I threw myself at him. Blood dripped from Gibbins' broken nose, red and warm like the sky at dusk over the battlefield, like Susan's lips in winter, like the wound festering on Edmund's chest, like the flowers in Lucy's golden mane._

_I stared at my own hand, bruised with the hit and speckelled with tiny red tears, and I knew. I knew my dreams about Narnia, about Aslan, about the four children weren't dreams at all. I finally recognized the invisible hurt for what it was, the symptom of a disease I couldn't understand. The wound had always been there, throbbing and crushing in silence. I simply had no name to put on the cavity carved in my chest, no explanation for the feeling of loss plaguing my dreams_

_Now I had a name, and it was Pevensie._

_Our teacher grabbed my arm harshly, forced me on my shaking knees and straight to the Provisor's office. I barely remembered what they yelled at me for attacking my classmate, my mind twirling with memories of a life I had forgotten about. What was I even doing here, playing the life of an ordinary boy when my country, my siblings needed me?_

_The next morning, I was gone. It took me the whole day to reach the Old Professor's house. The mansion was empty, the professor had apparently long died. His heritage went to his twice removed niece, who cared little about it. I sneaked into the House without any difficulties. And I went to the spareroom in the second-floor. The wardrobe stood right there, covered in dust but otherwise intact. I opened the door, and I threw myself into the old fur coats with the reckless abandon of those who have nothing to loose._

_I hit my head into the wooden back wall. There was nothing here._

_Nothing at all. I was alone."_

_._

_._

I. Something Magnificient

.

.

The day Martha Andrews saw her first patient die, she went home and made a cup of tea. One cup turned into two, then three, then a whole teapot. She spent the whole night in her kitchen, near her oven, brewing and sipping and starting again. Rince and repeat, until the bitterness of tea on her tongue matched the bitterness festering in her mind.

The day her husband left her and their son for another woman, Martha retreated in her kitchen and made tea. Literally litters of tea, six teapots everyday for a whole week, until the the smell of mint and jasmine had covered the enormity of the loss. All things considered, she gathered they were worst ways to cope. Some drowned their misery in alcohol, others in drugs, in games, in sex. In comparison, an unhealthy addiction to such a beverage only put her kidneys in jeopardy.

And so the day Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of the Hogwarts school of  _Witchcraft and Wizardly_  showed herself on her door, Martha politely smiled, invited her in her house and made tea.

Her hand didn't shook when she offered the stern looking woman a cup. Martha had enough anxious habits to cover an entire wing of the psychiatric ward, but with a needle or a teacup in her hand, her body never betrayed her.

"Ah, thank you," Mrs McGonagall said as she accepted gracefully the cup.

They all took a sip. Including her son, who hated the taste vindically. Martha felt her nerves settle for a time, falling back into her control, carving under the soothing pressure of sheer routine.

"You made an excellent brew, Mrs Andrews," the fifty-something old woman cleared her throat.

Ah. The marvels of civility. English women could spent entire afternoons dancing around the subject without speaking their mind once. "Thank you, I'm glad you like it."

" _Darjeeling_  made an excellent brew," Peter mumbled pettily into his hand like every pre-teens owed to.

Both Mrs McGonagall and herself gave her son The Look, in a perfectly synchronized move. At the very least, Martha had no doubt left regarding this woman spending an extensive amount of time around teenagers.

"So," Martha ignored her son's impatience. "I believe you were saying something about... _magic_."

The porcelain under-cup clasped on the wooden table. "Indeed. Mrs Andrew, perhaps have you noticed some...oddities about your son. Strange things happening, without logical explanation, such as object levitating, or changing color."

Martha straightened without replying. She wished so deeply to dismiss this strange woman as insane, to ignore the doors opened and to burry it all in the same place she hid her doubts and insecurities. But she couldn't.

Because to be honest, her son had always been a bit weird. Such a good boy, mature for his age, always so understanding of Martha's shortcomings.  _Too much_  understanding. Peter had to deal with his father leaving them when he was barely five, and his mother working double shifts to make ends meet, and he never complained, not once. He helped with the house like no child should have to, he cleaned and cooked, all the while making his homework and going to school on his own, always with a smile for his mum.

But even before her husband's Great Escape, Peter had been a strange child. Jokingly, Matthew used to say their son had the eyes of a old man, serious and judging. And Martha couldn't deny he had a point.

And there had been, of course,  _incidents_. Glasses exploding inexplicably when her boy was angry, for instance. One of her more insistant unwanted suitors turning bald overnight after acting particulary intrusive in front of Peter. In a way, it felt relieving to finally have an explanation for all the things she couldn't even begin to understand. In all the other ways, Martha was just downright _terrified_.

"Those strange things happening are what we call outbursts of accidental magic," the so-called witch went on with her explanation, with a discreet sympathic glance to Martha. "Perfectly normal for magical children."

Next to her, she could feel the apple of her eyes silently vibrating with excitement. Martha always had know that, somehow, Peter had been waiting all his life for something to happen. And right now, this something was happening.

"Magic, you say," he repeated with a false flippancy, before his voice turned way too charismatic and authoritative for the usual eleven-year old boys. "Prove it."

McGonagall, non-plussed, simply rose one eyebrow, while taking a long wood stick from her pocket. Then, she waved her stick, mumbled something in latin, and the cup she had been holding five minutes ago, the one from the set Martha received from her awful aunt Cecile, began to  _levitate_.

Martha liked to believe she had an well-groomed life. Not an exceedingly happy one, certainly not a perfect one, not even an exciting one, but a tidy, busy, rationnalized life, with a job to do, a few friends to brighten her days and a son to provide for. There wasn't lot of space left for fantasy in it, and Martha didn't mind since she'd never been inclined to daydreaming in the first place. It wasn't perfect, and a bit boring, but it was hers, and that witch with her wand and her non-nonsense attitude and her  _magic_  had no right to trample recklessly on it, like it was nothing.

Peter, of couse, was ecstatic.

"Awesome," he whispered reverently, a familiar glint of curiosity and exitement in his blue eyes. "I could that too?"

"Yes, if you come learning at Hogwarts," the witch answered with a tiny smile, before giving her likely futur student a  _waxed-sealed_ letter, as you do. "This is your acceptance letter. You will find the list of necessary books and equipment within."

Peter hastily opened his letter with barely contained glee. "Dear Mister Andrews, we are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he red out loud for her sake.

Martha was at least three teacups too soon for this madness.

"A school...to learn magic?" she repeated uselessly. "But where? And I don't have a lot of money..."

"Hogwarts is located in Scottland," the professor interrupted her confused rambling. "And scholarship are proposed for families in financial difficulties."

Funny how more the older woman spoke, more Martha lost grip on her fragile sense of reality. "But..but...I don't..."

Peter put back his letter to hold her shoulders and looked at her right in the eyes. "Mum, it's alright. Don't freak out. Everything is fine. I'm not leaving you. But I really want to go."

Of course he did. He had waited his all life for this. All the longing stares, the unusually serious faces, he had been expecting something to happen. He would never have settled for a well-groomed life, her Peter, even without magic barging into their life.

"Let's say hypothically I say no..." Martha cautiously drew a breathe, her throat throbbing with anxiety. "What would happen?"

The Headmistress' expression ruled itself into a study in stern politeness. "It depends on Peter's opinion. If he wishes to go, his choice prevails upon yours..."

"I'm his mother, and he's eleven," she frowned, without aknowlegding her son's disgusted pout at the reminder. "I'm the adult here."

"Indeed," McGongall blinked owlishly. "However, due to previous incidents with muggleborn children whose parents didn't quite...understood the situation, laws had been set in place to allow them to go to magical schools regardless."

A nice speech to cover that fact that because Martha wasn't a magical person, she was considered too stupid to make rational decision about her own son. Martha might not know anything about the magical world, but she knew a lot about humankind. Humans had the debilitating habit to think of people in term of groups: if you were in, everything was fine. If you were out however, you were an outsider, an intruder,  _lesser_.

In Martha's case, she was clearly of the lesser category.

God, she couldn't do this, she just couldn't do this. If one woman could casually fuck up gravity with a flick of the wrist, what else would her kind do to Martha should she refuse to cooperate? A new, potentially dangerous world had opened its doors to Peter, and she knew nothing of it.

"Muggleborn?" Peter repeated the unknow term curiously.

"Children born from Muggles. The wizarding word for non magical people," the teacher explained easely.

Muggle. It sounded like an insult. The same way someone might say 'worm' or 'scum'.

"And what if  _I_ say no?" Peter asked, most likely for her sake. His excited expression had closed of into polite hostility, and a sharp glint lurked beneath those blue eyes Martha had no idea came from.

"Then you're under no obligation to go to Hogwarts. _However_  you still have to attend mandatory classes with the Ministary to learn how to control your gift. Magic, when ignored, had a tendency to backlash. Letting magical children utterly untrained is too dangerous for everyone involved."

"I see," her son neutrally replied.

It wasn't like Martha had a choice in the first place. She might be out, but her son was half-way in already, wether they liked it or not. One step in her world, one step in theirs, where Martha could not follow.

But once again, it had always been the case anyway, hadn't it.

"Very well," she sighed, resigned. "We will try this...Hogwarts."

Peter beamed with the force of a thousand suns.

.

.

II. Something Gentle

.

.

The treehouse, nested at the top of the Sweet Plum tree was closer of a tree _mansion_ in size than anything else. But that was the Black way for you, it wasn't worth being called a house without at least two stories, a small tower, three security spells and a waterproof jinx.

It was also the only proof Sirius ever got that his father  _did_ have a soul after all, deep,  _deep_  down. Even the mighty Orion Black couldn't resist the combined force of his children and niece's puppy eyes.

And so five years ago, Cair Paravel had been built at the back of Grimmault Place's stark garden. Sirius' mother of course _hated_ the whole thing with a passion. She justified her reluctance by saying playpretending was 'above the offspring of the Noble and Ancient House Black' but really, she just couldn't stand the thought of Sirius having fun, or Morgana forbid, _being happy_. Well screw her, Sirius would be happy or die trying, if only to spite her.

Sirius ran across the yard, dodging the Neck-Strangling Vine thanks to sheer habit and caught sight of a familiar pair of red ballerina dangling from the treehouse. Yep, yep, she had definitely taken refuge up in Cair Paravel, where Walpurga Black would never condescend to go, and she hadn't even bothered to warn her cousin. Rude,  _so rude_.

He knocked three time against the sweet plum tree, and circular wooden stairs erupted from the trunk, opening the way to the Cair. He climbed gingerly to the top, skipping one step for two, as grown up going to Hogwarts owed to.

From the Cair, Grimmault Place looked smaller, not frightening at all, almost like a home. It was the only place in his house Susan actually liked, not that Sirius would blame her.

And here she was, the bright red of her dress a striking contrast with the greyish background of London's sky, black locks flowing on her back and a white wide-brimmed hat to protect her head from the sun. The whole fashionable outfit screamed for Narcissa's intervention.

Sirius slipped his legs next to hers, his shoes threatening to fall in the garden. It wouldn't mattered if they did anyway, that was why security spells were for. "Heya cos."

"Good afternoon Sirius," she replied easely, without offering an apology for retreating to the Cair without bothering to warn him.

He did not congratulated for her birthday. Ever since her eight's birthday, Susan categorically refused to even recognize its existence. Another occasion for happiness ruined by his awful cousin Bellatrix. Everything the dark witch touched turned to ashes, including her younger sister's smiles. Sirius had been young, but he did remembered a time where Sue beamed like the world had no limits.

She smiled still, but even her happy faces had an underneath bittersweet taste, like the one she made when Sirius offered her the cookie he had stolen from the kitchen. He kinda wished he had dragged Reggie on his way up instead of rushing to the Cair. His nerdy brother fared better at reading Susan's complex emotional rollercasters and act accordingly. Meh, whatever, Sirius could deal just fine on his own, thank you very much.

"So can I see it?" Sirius swung his legs impatiently.

"See what?" Sue asked as she cut the cookie in half and gave him the bigger part.

"Your _letter_!" What else.

"Hm..?" she messed with his hair teasingly, which was always a good sign. "Think of your own Hogwarts letter, replace 'mister Sirius Black' with 'miss Susan Black', and there, you have it."

"Suuuuue," he whined, pushing her hand away and biting in his cookie angrily. "Just show it to meeee!"

"I don't think I will," she nimbled at the edge of her half of the pastry.

So, for a 31th of July, Susan was in a good enough spirit. She tended to get in a  _mood_  for each of her birthdays, staring aimlessly at things Sirius couldn't see and just being painfully  _sad_. Susan was prone to what Dromeda called melancholic mood-swings every once in a while, but birthdays were usually the worst.

Once again, getting pranked with a 'surprise boggard' in her closet at eight years old by Bellatrix would so that to a person. His uncle had pretended his eldest daughter hadn't realized what she was doing, that she hadn't really meant to hurt her sister but Sirius knew better. Bellatrix had a dirty, wicked soul, if she had a soul at all.

"Don't you...want to go to Hogwarts?" Sirius said, making a active effort to reign in his excitement.

Sirius himself just couldn't _wait_  for September to come. Finally he'd get to learn magic, make friends who weren't copies of their terrible pureblood parents, get away from this place until summer came again.

"I don't mind, I suppose," Susan eventually answered pensively, miles away from Sirius' elation, but whatever, he would take what he could get from his emotionally-drained cousin.

"It's going to be  _amazing_ , just wait and see," he bumped his fist in the air eagerly. "Amazing, I'm telling you!"

"Well, if you say so then," the brunette agreed dryly.

"Yeah, exactly!" Sirius grinned as if he had completely missed the sarcastic subtext. "You and I are going to  _rule_  this place in no time."

Susan hummed non-commitally as she leant against his shoulder. "Sirius. You do realize there is a quite significant chance we won't be sorted in the same house."

Actually, Sirius had tried very hard not to think of the sorting, with admittedly mixed results.

"Blacks go to Slytherin," he repeated his mother's words without enthustiasm.

Sirius didn't wanted to be sorted in Slytherin.

"I doubt this Black will," Susan said softly, pointing at her own chest.

Sirius  _really_ didn't wanted to be sorted in Slytherin.

"Neither this one," he agreed sheepishly.

Where Sirius wanted to go started with G and ended with Ryffindor. And it certainly wasn't the kind of place Blacks were supposed to found themselves, especially not Black  _heirs_. His mother might genuinely attempt to murder him for daring to offend her sensibilities with his antics. And the rest of his family would follow in their disapproval, aside from Dromeda and Susan. Perhaps Reggie would turn his back on his brother too, the influencable brat.

Sirius was only eleven, and he had a family famous for their darkly-oriented deeds and opinions. Of course he was scared out of his wit, yet at the same time...the idea of displeasing them, of going against their teaching, of  _rebellion_  woke something made of thirsty throats, sharp teeth and bitter claws inside his chest.

Something like  _spite_. Maybe Sirius was more Black material than his mother liked to complain, after all. He as well used loathing to keep going, rage as his fuel, revenge for a purpose.

Susan was made of another cloth though. People cloaked in sorrow had no place for ugly hate in their heart. But that was alright too. Sirius could hate well enough for two. There was plenty of room in  _his_ heart for vindictiveness.

"It's going to be great, you'll see," he patted her hand fondly, and meant every word.

And if it wasn't great then...  _Sirius_  would make it happen.

.  
.

III. Something Just

.  
.

They pretented Love was the greatest force to be, the purest of feeling, that nothing could stop it, and Tobias used to believe all that crap, swallowed the lie hook and sinker like the enornous fool he really was as a naïve young man.

He knew better now. Love was no blessing, Love was a curse, Love was a lying liar who lied. Love got you tied up to people you despised and who despised you in return, Love trapped you inside of your own life, Love dried you up of your good will and left you deprived and thirsty and  _empty_. Love was marvellous until you exhausted your supply of it, which happened more quickly than Tobias would have thought.

Don't let anyone fool you, love came from a limited source, and nobody could buy for more, certainly not a poor and old fool like Tobias Snape.

Unlike alcohol. Alcohol held its promises, alcohol never betrayed you, and the sad reality of the end of the bottle existed only until you brought another one. Tobias wouldn't got as far as to pretend alcohol made him a better person, but at least it kept the sadness away. And Love, when he still had it, didn't made him a better person either anyway.

"Dad," Eddie walked inside the study without knocking, eyed the bottle of scotch with poorly hidden dislike but blessfully refrained from commenting. "I've received my letter. So did Sev."

Of course they had. The 31th of July, the twins' birthday, right one time. One of their damned owls had delivered the damn papers from the dam school. Tobias had heard the ruckus his wife had made at the marvelous news from his study alright, though he didn't see what was there to be happy about.

He was losing both his sons to the Devil and could do nothing to stop it.

"I know," he simply said, without being able to fake happiness at the prospect.

Not that he would have fooled his son anyway. The boy always had been way too perceptive for his own good. Not like Tobias himself. His other son was like that too in a way, too observant and smart for his own good, made of keen eyes, sharp tongue and dry wit. Sevy saw what Sevy wanted to see, though, and it usually went along his mother's vision of life.

"Dad, I know what you think about wizards," Eddie said while sitting on his old seat, facing his old man with his Serious Business face on. "But I'm convinced you're wrong. I can't believe anyone to be inherently Evil, magic or not."

He was such a good boy, his Eddie. Well-behaved, polite, rational, and always so naturally fair. Severus, he could see, was just like his mother, eager to loose himself to their magical madness and let his muggle heritage far from him. But Edmund was different. Sometimes, Tobias wondered if he was their father at all, for he had no idea where all this inner goodness was coming from. Not from Eileen, a selfish woman if there ever was, and certainly not from himself.

But they would twist him, turn him as one their own, until one day Tobias wouldn't be able to recognise him. If he went to that school for freaks, Snape knew it would only be a matter of time before the boy who used to ask stories about the knights of old disappeared for the disdainful wizard obviously superior to his old stupid Muggle of a father.

Tobias did not belonged to their world and Eileen would never let him forget it. Or their sons. What a fool he had been, thinking two people so drastically different, born and raised into opposed worlds, magical against mundane, rich against poor, could built a family against all odds, thanks to the holy grace of  _Love_.

Love betrayed you eventually, so had Eileen. What his beloved wife hadn't quite managed, their school would. One day Tobias would look for Eddie and would only find Severus. That day he would know he truly had lost his son. Both of them.

"Would you write to us at least?" his son sighed, his black eyes inherited from his mother, intense and unwavering.

Tobias almost gasped with surprise. His son wanted his drunkard of a genitor to write to  _him_? He honestly thought Eddie couldn't wait to get away from this Muggle hole. Sevy certainly did, and made no secret of his distate for their life.

"I..yes, if you want me too, that is," he replied, hating how his voice couldn't stay steady like his son's. Sometimes he honestly felt as if he had no idea who was the father and who was the son.

Sometimes he was convinced Eddie was just humoring them, both Eileen and himself.

"I do, Dad," he smiled softly at Tobias with that wise expression of his that should have nothing to do on a eleven-year old face. "I really do."

As soon as he left the room, Tobias' hand went for his bottle of scotch. And then stopped mid-air.

Uh. Maybe he hadn't ran entirely short on Love after all.

.

.

IV. Something Valiant

.

.

Once again, the girl who smelled like home was back in his forest.

Sensing her approach, Play-With-Fire hid behind enormous trees, where he could watch without being seen. He quite liked his sunshine girl, but unfortunately she was a human, and Mother had ordered him not to let humans see him. Dangerous for young unicorns, she had said. So he kept on watching her from afar, the few time she'd come since he was old enough to wander on his own.

Sunshine-girl drew closer to the Ancient Tree, and bowed down to Him. The Lord Oak answered to her show of respect with a soft whisper between his leaves. The girl beamed and bounced to come sit between venerable roots.

And so Play-With-Fire was left wondering about her and her curious habits. Other humans had never paid any particular attention to the Ancient Tree, even the magical ones. The boy who lived nearby, for instance, never came to this part of the forest, except to fetch his wandering friend.

But Sunshine girl? She knew.

She knew about the Trees That Talk. She knew about the ghost dryads whispering among the branches. She knew about the Lord Lion. Play-With-Fire heard her mention His name once. She had looked so deeply sad.

"And my sister brought my nephew William to my birthday party!" she chirped happily at the Tree, and unknowingly to the eavesdropping unicorn. "He's soooo cute, like you wouldn't believe it."

Play-With-Fire remembered seeing her holding a human foal once, one with the wildest red hair he had ever come upon. She had bounced him in her arms, and the babe had giggled with delight. He was watching her with the same adoring eyes he had used with his Mother.

"I came here secretly today, my dearest tree friend," her smile turned mischievous at that. "So don't go rat me out to the Longbottoms! Frank would be so crossed with me for sneaking out without him. Well, it's his own fault if he's not here anyway."

The Lord Oak laughed in agreement, his branches shaking with mirth.

"I didn't really want to see anyone today. Anyone human I mean," she confessed, her happy grin sobering into an unusually distant expression. "I got my acceptance letter yesterday. For Hogwarts."

Play-With-Fire knew about Hogwarts, the place where magical foals learned how to wave their stick properly, right next to the Old Forest. Did that mean Sunshine girl would not come anymore to visit them? A seed of unexpected sadness grew in the unicorn's heart.

"It's not that I'm not happy, I really am. I've been waiting for so long," she mused out loud, thoughful. "Maybe I'll finally get to understand why I'm here. Why Aslan sent me to this place."

Aslan. The Lord Lion. She spoke of legendary figures, gods, as if she personally met them. A shiver, both of fear and excitement, ran along Play-With-Fire's spine.

"Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I don't have a mission here. Maybe I shall never see my siblings again," her voice turned wistful, heavy with grief. "Don't get me wrong, I love Molly, Gideon and Fabian. And Bill, and Arthur, and Frank and even my unborn nephew. I really do, from the bottom of my heart."

Below her, leaves shuddered with compassion. The unicorn wished he could come and drive his snout into her golden hair, so her sad expression would turn into one of delight once again.

"But sometime I feel like it's just not the same, you know. As if Peter, Susan and Edmund took pieces of my heart with them. There is just not room enough anymore."

She left pretty soon after that. At the place where she had sat, between the showing roots, laid a shiny red apple. An offering to him.

 _Who_  was this human?

.

.

August, 1971, Longbottom House

_Dear Lucy, Valiant Queen of the Prewett House,_

_I shall begin this letter by warning you not to expect any congratulations on my part, none_ _whatsoever, for I never had any doubts on your acceptance to Hogwarts. How could I, when the_ _memory of the day you turned my hair into an actual lion mane just because I said the lion you'd_ _drawn looked wooby (it totally did, by the way, I'm not retracting that statement, ever) is still fresh_ _into my mind (you still owe me several therapy bills, just saying)._

_There, I said it, you can pout at me, or at my letter in this case, all your heart content. Feel relieved_ _knowing my mother sent her own congratulations (easy for her to say, it was never her hair in_ _danger!)_

_Anyway, I cannot wait to see you at Hogwarts! What house do you think will have to handle your_ _overwhelming (although amazingly awesome) presence? Not Ravenclaw, for you are as much of a_ _scholar than I am, nor Slytherin (no offense, but you don't have a sneaky bone in your whole body,_ _cos). So Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, then? Obviously, I'm rooting for my own house, but clearly I'biased on the matter. You'd make an awesome Badger for sure._

_How is your family by the way? Mum told me she met Gideon at the Ministry (at least she thinks it_ _was Gideon), and that he looked just fine and proper or whatever. Is it true he is trying to enter the_ _Auror training Program? So wicked! It does feel weird to think about him without Fabian, though._ _And how's Molly settling in her new home? Did I tell you I met your nephew a few days ago? A_ _edhead, just like his dad! I bet he will be Gryffindor, this one, just like any other Weasley._

_Anyway, Mum is calling me to dinner, I shall leave you here before she hexes me into oblivion or_ _something (she totally would, you know it!). I look forward seeing you at Diagon Alley next week!_

_Plenty of affection (of the very manly kind, mind you (yes I am abusing my Parenthesis Power, no I don't care (just watch me, my madness knows no limit))),_

_Frank, brave knight of Longbottom House (as consecrated by yourself)_

_PS: Haapppyyyy birthday cousin! You thought I had forgotten, did you not? Ye of little faith._

_PPS: Sorry again I could not attend...I'll make it up to you, pinkie promise._


	2. Diagon Alley

" _Of all things, I had my trigger moment thanks to my older sister Bellatrix. She thought it would be funny to hide a Boggart into my closet. A character -building experience, she said. I was never Black enough for her tastes, whatever that meant._

_I was barely eight._

_I opened the door to my room, and the floor turned covered with corpses. Three, more precisely. A man, tall and proud, blond and crowned, impaled on his own sword. A girl, her pretty dress torn to shreds, strangled to death. And a unidentifiable corpse, mostly eaten by wolves. I identified it anyway._

_I screamed so loud I rendered everyone in the house literally deaf at the moment with my most violent accidental magical outburst ever. I always was quite the screamer. No wonder I got a magical horn to call for help._

_I had to spend a week in St. Mungo's psychiatric ward after that, to my mother's everlasting shame. Mental diseases had always been a particularly sensitive subject for Blacks after all. She got me out the moment I stopped having spectacular crisis of anxiety, against the healers' advice. But she never cared much about healers' advice. She never cared for anyone's advice that couldn't present to her a thorough analysis of their full pedigree, and even then..._

_I had nightmares every night weeks after that, where I woke up screaming and crying._

_I still do sometimes. But now there are many more corpses on the floor._

.

_._

I. Something Magnificent

.

Minerva McGonagall could be relieved to know that, at least, some things never changed, mature muggleborn or not.

"Are you telling me," Peter repeated with a huge, growing grin she could tell after years of handling trouble-makers, meant no good, as in a-week-worth-of-detention-no-good. Minerva really needed some time away from preposterous children. "That you have  _flying_ brooms?  _Actual_  flying brooms?"

His mother, on the other hand, warily eyed the shop and the brooms displayed. Minerva could feel her pain, really. Though she did enjoy displaying the Quiddich cup on her desk and gloating to other heads of house as much as the next teacher, she could never quite understand the fanatical passion that centered around this life-threatening activity they called a sport.

Peter Andrews, on the other hand, did not seem to have any problem grasping what the big deal was about.

"What have I been doing all my life?" the blond boy asked rhetorically, with a familiar eager glint in his blue eyes.

Boys. Honestly.

"Fear not, Mr. Andrews," the professor deadpanned. "You will have many occasions to rectify that dreadful lacune this year, when classes start. Now, if you don't mind, we still have many purchases to do."

Mrs. Andrews startled at the announcement. "Wait, there are mandatory  _flying classes_? Is that...safe?"

No. Absolutely not. Fortunately, Poppy wasn't here to deliver another pamphlet on this stupid, neck-breaking, hell of a sport. Not that Minerva could blame her, what with all the injuries caused by the damn game the nurse had to heal every year, but rants could get tiring after the hundredth time of hearing them, especially when Minerva wasn't the one doing the ranting.

"Our students are very closely monitored, Mrs. Andrews." And our infirmary very crowed, especially after Quidditch matches, but somehow she doubted the anxious mother wished to hear about that.

"What's left to buy then, Professor?" Peter asked neutrally, probably hoping to distract his mother from the matter altogether. "We've got the books, the potions stuff, the telescope, the wand..." His smile turned shining bright at the reminder, and Minerva vowed to make the point on the interdiction to using his wand clear.  _Very_  clear.  _Crystal_  clear.

"We still have to buy your robes," nodded the stern Head of House. "And you have the option to bring a pet with you, as long as it's a rat, a toad, a cat or an owl. I personally suggest you take an owl, so you could have correspondence with your mother. Nonetheless, school owls are at your disposal."

They stopped in front of the Magical Menagerie, the shop bursting with life this time of the year, as the rest of Diagon Alley. Mrs. Andrews smiled keenly at the kitten playing behind the storefront.

"Cats, toads, rat and owls?" frowned Peter, thoughtful. "That's very...specific. Why not dogs, or rabbits?"

Good point, one Minerva never knew how to explain, aside from 'we always did like that' which was hardly a convincing answer.

"Those are not magical pets, Mr. Andrews, I'm afraid. So, do you want to take one?"

Peter took one considering glance at the pets, and Minerva was sure she caught an expression of sheer longing before the boy eased his face back into a polite smile. "No, thanks. I think we've spent enough money today. Mum, shall we go?"

Funny how the moment Peter Andrews had managed to convince her he was just a typical eleven-year old, he did something uncannily mature for his age and shattered her the portrait she made of him in her mind.

"So what were you saying about flying brooms and a sport again, Ma'am?"

Or not.

.

.

II. Something Gentle

.

If there was someone who could always tell how Regulus Black really felt, way before his mother, or his self-centered airhead of a brother got any clue, it was his cousin Susan Black.

To be fair, Regulus was utterly convinced Susan knew _everything_ , so it did make sense she would understand his own feelings even better than he did. That was just the Susan effect for you.

"Alright, what is it?" she whispered at him as Sirius tried another wand, and almost blew up his own hand. "You've been brooding all day."

"I have not!" he denied indignantly, resisting the urge to puff his cheeks in anger.

If his cousin had been less of a lady already, Regulus bet she would have been rolling eyes at him.

"Yes you have. On the inside." She drew her hand to her heart for emphasis, while smiling softly at him.

In the background, his brother waved what had to be his twelfth wand. What a klutz, really. Couldn't help himself not to bring attention to his person. It really wasn't surprising no wands could stand him and his Gryffindor massive ego.

The nine-year old felt his own heart constrict in his chest. In a few weeks, he wouldn't have to endure his obnoxious brother constant presence anymore, there would be no need cover up for his idiocies, neither to sneak pastries to his room when he was being punished for whatever deed Regulus hadn't manage to stop him from doing.

In a few weeks, Regulus would be all alone.  _Useless_.

"Oh Reggie," Susan's pretty eyes turned sad. "You know we will be writing constantly to you. Well, I will, and I'll force Sirius to do the same. You will be just fine, I'm sure."

Without answering, Regulus tried to stop his tears from showing. How unbecoming. Fortunately, everyone's attention got stolen by Sirius' cry of victory, as he held his new wand proudly.

"Perfect, Mr. Black," mumbled Ollivander, before turning to the pair waiting by the counter. "I think we're done here. Your turn, Miss Black, I reckon?"

Susan straightened as everyone's eyes drew in their direction, before nodding at the shopkeeper.

Finding a wand for the ever-diplomatic youngest Black girl surprisingly turned out to be even more complicated than for Sirius. Who would have thought?

"A difficult custumer, I see," mumbled the wandmaker, growing even more excited at each failure. "But we shall prevail, Miss Black. I wonder if..."

Ollivander went back from the back of his shop with an unreadable expression. And as he presented a delicate white wand to the brunette, she froze for half a second, before easing her face into a neutral expression that would have fooled Regulus, had he not known his cousin so well.

She took the wand almost reverently into her thin hands, before giving it a wave. A beautiful white spark turned into a flower, before disappearing into thin air. Much classier than Sirius' loud display, but that was to be expected.

"How odd," brightened the wandmaker, obviously fascinated. "The wood is made of a very rare kind, called Godswood. In ten years, I only sold one before yours, in fact, just a few hours ago. Very odd indeed..."

Susan visibly froze again. "This morning?" she inquired, oddly frantic. "To who?"

"Hum?...Oh, a eleven-year old boy, his first wand, like yours. 14'' godswood, griffin feather. His name is Peter Andrews, if I recall."

Mother snorted with disdain. "A  _mudblood_ I reckon, with a name like that. You are accepting everybody these days, Ollivander."

The shopkeeper shrugged, apparently indifferent to the reprimand. "Magic is magic, Mrs. Black. If blood-status doesn't matter to the wands, it doesn't to me either. There, young lady, 11 inches, Godswood, and Dryad hair as a core. Very strange combination indeed."

Susan nodded absently, her eyes riveted to her new wand. "Do you have others of these, Mr. Ollivander?"

"I do actually. Two, one of unicorn hair and the other of centaur hair. Very, very strange indeed. I haven't used those materials in years, see. Maybe I'll sell them today too."

Susan's smile turned serene, masking her barely remarkable agitation. "Maybe you will."

.

.

III. Something Just

.

There was, Lily Evans deeply believed, a distinct way for people to walk, telling of their character. Her mother, for instance, all but bounced with delight, Tuney decidedly  _marched_  everywhere like she owned the place and Severus sneaked up as if he didn't want anyone to notice him.

And Edmund Snape? Well, if there was a word for how Ed walked, Lily had yet to find it. It wasn't confident, or serene, or discreet, or decided, or inconspicuous. It was all that, but at  _once_.

There was something both deeply irritating and soothing about one Edmund Snape and his sliding ways.

"Lily," he grinned at her. "If you get any more enthusiastic, you might self-combust, and since we're surrounded by highly flammable books, burn everything down with you. I don't want to face the paperwork your arsonic ways would entail, not to mention your father's fury when we bring back your BBQ'ed body."

Did she mention what a infuriating douchebag he could turned into?

"I'm not!" she spat back indignantly, involontary drawing the attention of the closest other costumers. "Sev, tell him I'm not being too  _enthusiastic!_ "

Before her unlikely knight could open his mouth to defend her honour, Ed rolled his eyes at him. "Right, because we don't all know everything you do is worth gaining sainthood in my dearest brother's eyes. Ain't that right, Sevy?"

Severus turned bright red at the implication. "Aren't you quite done, the two of you?" he hissed at the pair, rather unfairly, Lily might say. "You're drawing half of Flourish and Blotts' attention!"

Ed shrugged unapologetically under Lily's pointed stare. "Hey, now you know how I feel when you bicker endlessly with Petunia."

And to that, the young witch found herself reluctantly nodding along. Because the most irritating thing about Edmund often turned out to be the fact he always ended up being right.

It probably annoyed her so much because she was like that too. But less successful.

"It's different!" Severus vehemently denied, before casting a worried glance at Lily.

"Whatever you say, bro. Anyway, Mum will be back in fifteen minutes or so, don't get lost and don't burn anything until I'm here to laugh at you!" and then he went upstairs, to do whatever Ed did when left to his own devices in a magical bookshop.

Even Lily admitted there were things best left unknown in this world.

Severus, still slightly pink with embarrassment, led her to the Hogwarts section, and the redhead bounced happily among the shelves.

"Look, it's  _Hogwarts, a History_! I've wanted to read this one for  _ages !_ " she swooned, hardly resisting the urge to held it to her chest and shed a tear of happiness. Or two. Maybe three, at the most.

There were in a  _magical bookshop_. A girl had the right to be moved.

Her dark-haired friend chuckled indulgently at her antics, and Lily almost patted herself for accomplishment. She considered each smile from Sev as a personal victory against his natural gloominess.

"Ooh, are you going to Hogwarts this year too?" an unfamiliar voice interrupted her inner dance of victory.

Both Severus and herself turned to face a beaming girl she was pretty sure none of them had met before. The newcomer was clad into lovely but slightly messy robes, with an equally messy bob haircut of golden blond soft-looking hair.

Lily liked her almost immediately.

" Definitely, you too?" she beamed back at the barely smaller girl. Not that Lily had much room to talk on that account.

" Absolutely! I'm Lucy Prewett, by the way," the blonde presented herself while extending her hand to Lily, who shook it without thinking, then towards Severus.

"Lily Evans, and this is Severus Snape." She sent a pointed glare at her socially awkward friend, who managed to mutter a shy "hello" and a nod at Lucy.

Fortunately, the beaming blond didn't seem to take offense at all about Sev's reluctance. Lily knew there was a reason she liked her.

Before she had a chance to question the other girl further, a another boy, slightly older made his appearance from behind a shelf.

"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy," the dark-haired boy tutted at her with huge smile, before throwing his arm on her shoulders. "What did I tell you about harassing strangers, hmm?"

Lucy's smile turned sheepish. "Not to do it?"

"And what did you do?" her friend inquired with an eyebrow slowly rising. Lily was that close to taking notes on the smoothness of the move.

"I ignored your wise advice, as usual?" Lucy laughed unapologetically, while throwing back his arm off her shoulders.

"Exactly," the newcomer sighed with an obviously fake expression of despair, before turning his attention towards the pair. "You will have to forgive my cousin, she can't help herself being nosy."

Lily laughed at Lucy's indignant outcry. "Not at all, it was a pleasure. I'm Lily Evans, and this is my friend Severus Snape."

Lucy's cousin beamed at her. "Frank Longbottom. Are you first year as well? If so, I'm afraid you will have to endure my cousin's presence then. She's a special kind of snowflake, but I assure you, you just get used to it after a while. Sort of."

And there, a miracle if there ever was, Severus smirked back. "Don't worry. I have plenty of experience dealing with nosiness."

Oh  _really_ now.

"And what is that supposed to mean, Severus Snape?" Lily put her hands on her hips as she had saw her mother do many times when trying to make a point.

He dared smile at her innocently. What a shameless  _scoundrel_. Ed had a  _terrible_  influence on him. "Why, feeling affronted now, Lily? I was speaking of Petunia, naturally."

Speaking of the wolf...Ed's typical low laugh erupted behind her. "Growing a spine, Sevy? And here I thought you were already too whipped for help! Why is it so crowed here? Are you starting recruiting minions for your evil army already, Lily?"

Then he got an eyeful of the other pair, and just  _froze_.

.

.

IV. Something Valiant

.

"Alright, spit it out," Fabian whispered in Frank's ear as soon as his lovely younger sister was out of earshot. "Did you put something on her drink or what?"

Fabian was well-used to Lucy high's spirits of sheer optimism and good nature. But ever since he came back picking the kids from Flourish and Blott, she had been all but bouncing in the streets and blinding innocent bystanders with her hundred-volt huge smile. Soon enough, people would come asking for therapy bills, and Merlin knew the Prewett's could do without additional expenses.

"We were in the bookshop," his cousin laughed it off while Lucy went to compliment a seller on the 'amazing purple shade of her hat', which honestly was a truly hideous piece of velvet. Fabian was growing worried that whatever made her so damn high also inflicted her with color blindness. "There were hardly any drinks to spill, I'll have you know."

Fabian loved Frank Longbottom to pieces, really. Most friendly chap if there ever was, despite his draculean-like mother. But sometimes, like right now, he wished the boy would just  _get to the damned point already_.

"What happened then?" inquired the Prewett twin, trying to rein in his growing impatience. Merlin forbid Fabian ever took a job that required having to actually play nice with people.

If only Gideon could have come with them. He was so much more of cool head than Fabian ever was, which admittedly wasn't that much of an exploit.

"I'm not sure, actually," frowned his only mildly reliable source of information. "We met other first years, a redhead girl, nice gal, and her friend, a bit shy but seemed like a cool bloke. Everything was fine until the dude's fraternal twin showed up. I mean, he was pretty friendly and polite, but I could swear there was something pretty intense going on for half a minute between him and Sunshine Stuff over there. Like, you know, they knew each other or something, but she said they never met before when I asked."

The thirteen year-old Gryffindor shrugged before adding: "That's all I know. They left pretty soon after that, the twin's mother was waiting for them, as I recall."

Fabian froze on the spot so abruptly his younger cousin almost bumped into him. A boy. Intense glance. Oh dear. No. Way. Where the fuck was Gideon when he was desperately needed?

"You don't think she is having a  _crush_ , right?"

Frank laughed, and then frowned as he understood the dreadful gravity of the situation. At least that's how the older man interpreted it. "You're kidding, right? Man, she's eleven!"

And didn't Fabian know that. But girls were pretty precocious these days, and Lucy, despite her ever cheerful behavior had always been extremely mature for her age. A fact her siblings had been terribly proud of, although right now  _not so much_.

"What did you said his name was again?" the redhead asked with a very fake casualness.

Time for Gideon to put all that stuff he was learning at Aurors Training for Paranoid Bastards to good use. And Fabian, being the devoted brother he was, would gladly give him a hand.

.

.

August 1971, Evans Home

_You little nosy interfering freak,_

_You really think you can do whatever you want here just because my sister turned out to be weirdo like you and your slimy sneaky git you call a brother, right? Well I won't tolerate it! You keep your ugly owl to that dirty hole you live in and out of proper people's houses, you hear me, Edmund Snape!_

_Hatefully, and hopefully for the last time,_

_P. Evans_

_PS : Mother ordered me to thank you for the book, so there, thank you. It will surely make nice combustible for the fire next winter._

_._

August 1971, Evans Home

_Dear Edmund,_

_Don't listen to whatever Petunia wrote in her reply letter! I'm sure it was very nasty and ungrateful, but know she didn't meant it. No really. Deep down. She kept it on her bookshelf, and I'm convinced she read it twice now. I even caught her underlying parts, if you can believe it!_

_Is that what you were doing at Flourish and Blott? Buying 'Dealing with your Wizard relative for non-nonsense Muggles' for my sister? That's so incredibly thoughtful of you, Eddie! I take back everything I said about you being a tactless moron, at least until you do something that proves me right again._

_No, seriously, thank you so much! Can you even believe she asked me something about our trip to Diagon Alley this morning? I mean, she sneered at me for the form, but she was actually interested and everything! I thought my relationship with Tuney was completely unsavable, but maybe I gave up too soon after all. I really missed her, you know. Not that Sev and you aren't great, but, well, it's not exactly the same, right? I mean, what am I supposed to do without someone taking it upon themselves to tell me my coat looks absolutely hideous with the color of my shoes? Don't take it as an invitation to criticize my wardrobe though, Edmund Snape, I know how you think._

_Anyway, I can't wait for September to come! Do you realise that in less than a week we will be at Hogwarts, finally learning real magic? I know I don't._

_Say hello to Sev from me, and please send my best regards to your parents. I guess I'll see you two soon at King's Cross!_

_With all my affection,_

_Lily Evans_


	3. On the train to Hogwarts

" _It's almost funny in a way. I bet the others had grand moments when they remembered about their true selves, likely very dramatic. And me? I ate a Turkish delight._

_It happened after the first day we ever spent at school, Sev and I. Dad had finally won the battle against Mom about whether or not his children needed to go at a Muggle School, and three years late we were enrollated into elementary school at six years old._

_Dad took us to a confectionary as a reward for good behavior, for not turning anyone's hair blue or whatever evil he was so afraid we'd come up with if left unsupervised in company of normal people too long. And there I ate a Turkish delight for the first time._

_It tasted very sweet. It tasted like treachery and betrayal. I puked everything on the spot, and made myself sick for two days. Mum went barking mad and Father sicked himself with worry and guilt._

_After that, I made frantic research about the Pevensie family. Peter Pevensie, born in 1927, went missing and presumed dead in 1940. Susan Pevensie, born in 1928, went missing and presumed dead in 1940. Lucy Pevensie, born in 1932, went missing and presumed dead in 1940._

_Edmund Pevensie, born in 1930, went missing and presumed dead in 1940. None of them, or us, even got an actual grave."_

_._

_._

I. Something Magnificent

.

Remus Lupin had been absolutely, utterly, indubitably convinced that Peter Andrews was a pureblood.

"Uh, I'm sorry, c-can I sit there? All the others c- compartments are taken..." Remus managed to utter without shuttering too much. He almost considered patting himself on the back, if only for the fact that stuttering werewolves had to be the most pathetic thing  _ever_. Just behind turtles stuck on their back on the scale of the ridiculous.

Remus would have given anything, anything for an empty compartment where he could have hid himself hoping no one would notice his presence. Would teach him to be quicker next time.

The only occupant of the compartment raised his head towards the newcomer, before nodding with a pleasant smile. "Sure, go ahead."

The werewolf all but melted on the seat in front of the other boy, who gifted him with an amused glance. There was something about him, both Remus and his inner wolf could feel it, something that screamed of unassuming dominance. Born Alpha, howled the wolf. Natural leader, deduced the human.

Both felt more than a little awed by the sheer aura of their fellow student. Which had to be the first time they agreed on anything.

"Name's Peter, by the way. Peter Andrews," the blond boy presented himself as he extended his hand for Remus to shake. "Are you a first year as well?"

Andrews? Remus had never heard of the name before, but on the other hand neither of his parents had been into the purity thing some other families were so fond of. His father was a halfblood himself, and his mother, horror of horrors, a Muggle. Had Remus been a proper pureblood, his good pedigree would have been ruined by this minor disease called lycanthropy anyway.

"Yes, I'm Remus Lupin, pleased to meet you."

A whole sentence to a perfect stranger, and without shuttering at all. Now that was a exploit worth self-patting. If only it wouldn't make him look like the utter lunatic he really was.

"Likewise," Peter's eyes glinted with amusement. "A Remus, right? Do you have a brother named Romulus too? 'Cause that would be just wicked."

Did he just make an Antic Roma joke? Perhaps this compartment had been the right one after all. Had Remus been a girl he so would be swooning right now.

"No, unfortunately," the tawny-haired boy smiled shyly. "Only child."

Peter nodded in agreement. "Ah, I see. Me too."

And then his previously bright with mischief eyes turned sad, or more like nostalgic, for no reason apparent to Remus. He was left trying to salvage the conversation, despite his almost pathological lack of social skills.

"What...what house do you think you will be Sorted into?"

"House?" he repeated with a perplexed expression. "Oh, that. I don't really know. Probably Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall seemed to think so at least."

Remus almost jumped on his seat, startled. "The deputy Headmistress? You've met her already?"

"Well, yeah," the taller boy shrugged. "She came to help my mother and I sorted out things for Hogwarts."

Now, wait a minute...

"Sort out things?" the werewolf repeated, like a broken record player. "Wait, are you Muggleborn?"

Peter's friendly smile turned wary lightning fast. "Is that a problem?"

"No! Nonono, absolutly not!" Remus stumbled upon his own words, with growing panic. Why, why did he always have to mess everything up? "I...I just assumed...You l-looked...I mean, I'm really s-sorry!"

The other first year raised his hand in appeasing gesture. "It's alright, mate, I believe you. Don't get your nickers in a twist. We both overreacted here. I mean, I heard some people didn't like people like me, made me a bit paranoid, you know. Let's start over, shall we?"

Remus smiled back tensely, and released the sigh he had been holding without noticing. "Yeah, sure, I'm sorry for making assumptions anyway...It's just, you look kinda confident, like you know you belong here, without doubt."

Remus wished he would ever looked like that. The only place he could undoubtedly belong to would be prison. Or a zoo.

"Arrogant you mean? And here I thought I was being discreet about my real persona," he joked with a boyish grin. "Should I have doubts?"

"Not arrogant," he tentatively smiled back. "And if you received your letter, then yes, you belong here." Probably more than Remus-the-undercover-werewolf anyway. "But you're right, some Pureblood might...question your right to be here."

Peter shrugged indifferently. "There are prejudiced pricks everywhere, I reckon. But enough talking about me. What House are  _you_  aiming for?"

"Me?" Remus fidgeted on his seat under Peter's patient stare. "Well...Probably Ravenclaw. Or Slytherin."

No one within their right mind would have the disastrous idea to put a  _werewolf_  among the Hufflepuffs. On the other hand, he certainly was bookworm enough to be Sorted among the ravens. And Slytherin, well, he  _was_  a Dark Creature after all.

"But that's not the Houses you're aiming for, right?"

Remus froze like a rabbit under Peter's ageless knowing smile. Some predator he made. "I would...like...to go in Gryffindor, but that won't happen."

"And why ever not?"

Because he was a coward scared of his own shadow. Because Dark Creatures didn't get be heroic Gryffindors. Actually Dark Creatures didn't get to go to Hogwarts at all. The Ministry was probably waiting for him at the end of the line.

"I'm...I'm not really a brave person," he whispered, lowering his head in shame, desperately hoping Peter would just drop the subject.

No such luck.

The other boy put his head in his hand with an unreadable expression. "With all due respect, Remus, that's complete bullshit. Courage doesn't always manifest with reckless acts of bravado, you know."

And then he stopped his rant, his eyes widening almost comically. "Is that a...toad?"

Not unhappy being off the hook for the time being, Remus turned his head to his right, where indeed a rather ugly amphibian lay casually on the seat. "Uhg, yeah. Someone probably lost it."

"What should we do then?" The toad croaked, apparently indifferent to Peter's dilemma. "His owner's probably looking for him."

"Her," Remus corrected without thinking. Bloody wolf senses. Fortunately Peter didn't seemed to notice his slip up, lost as he was to a staring contest with their new amphibian companion. "I can't catch her. Animals...don't like me very much, as a rule."

Despite Remus' fears, the toad was hardly bothered by their presence, since she jumped without reluctance onto Peter's open palms when the boy knelt down next to her perch.

"Seems they like me, at least," he laughed as he sat back on his seat next to the window, the toad croaking sporadically on his lap.

Before Remus could find an answer to the boyish boast, the door of their compartment opened without any warning.

"Excuse me, have you seen...Mrs. Toad! There you are!" a tiny golden-haired girl exclaimed in guise of a presentation. "We've been looking for you  _everywhere_!"

.

.

II. Something Gentle

.

Five minutes after boarding the train leading him to Hogwarts and the consequent incoming adventures and general epicness, James Potter had come to the conclusion that Sirius Black, despite his dreadful upbringing, had to be his platonic soulmate. Or his twin separated at birth. There were no other explanations to the immediate similarity of mind the two of them shared.

Too bad his cousin didn't turned out to be half as fun, but hey, you couldn't have everything on the first try. Besides, she was a  _girl_. Lack of humor ran on her genes or something.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm assisting the birth of something truly evil?" the dark-haired girl mused out loud, interrupting James' rant over the merit of Zonko's compared to other prank shops. So unbelievably ruuuude.

Peter Pettigrew, a plumb boy with an expression of confusion so fetching James had taken it upon himself to keep him under his wing, at least until their Sorting, smiled uncertainly at the three other compartment occupants.

"Nonsense, cos," Sirius dismissed her concerns with a sly grin James could really had grown envious of had he not been too awesome for petty feelings like jealousy. "You have the honour of assisting in the birth of something wickedly awesome, if I may say so myself."

The Potter scion grinned at his new partner in crime, before sighing. "Indeed. Too bad you will be Sorted into Slytherin though, mate."

"If you think Sirius will be sorted into Slytherin," Susan all but snorted. Probably not lady-like enough for Miss Better-than-thou- hooligans. "You clearly haven't properly met my cousin."

The subject of their conversation winced without saying anything, which James, after less than half an hour of acquaintance could already deduce to be uncharacteristic behavior.

"But...I mean Blacks always go to Slytherin..." James felt his world view turned on its axis, before he managed to cling at the only thing that made sense. Jokes. "Imagine a Gryffindor Black...wicked! It would be like the best prank ever to start the year!"

His fellow prankster beamed at him, glints of relief in his blue eyes. Peter smiled tentatively in answer.

And Susan made a live demonstration of her 'stick in the mud' true nature. How were those two even  _related_? The lost twin theory grew more probable every time she opened her nosy mouth.

"Must everything be a prank to you, honestly?" she frowned at James with an expression deeply reminiscent of his mother. Females. "Whatever. I'm going for a walk. I'm in a dire need of a break from all the testosterone."

James couldn't say he was unhappy to see her off. Goody-two-shoes did tend to throw off his groove. Besides, she and her devil snobbish mothering ways were scaring poor Peter off.

Sirius watched her leave with uncertainty before James managed to catch his attention with a game of Gobstones. By sending a game piece right to his aristocratic nose, more precisely, which was a perfectly valid technique of distraction according to his Dad, chief Auror if you please, so you could say he knew what he talked about.

James had never claimed to be the subtle sort anyway.

.

.

III. Something Just

.

The moment the girl walked into their compartment, Severus could tell she was made of a different breed than them. Everything, from the pristine well- adjusted robes to the general aura of unassuming superiority screamed 'pureblood' to him. Mother had made sure Severus would know which people were better to have on their side.

Edmund, for all his clear disdain at Mother's recommendations, had made the appropriate conclusions as well, if Severus could judge from the almost imperceptible way his brother had momentarily froze up at the girl's entrance. Lily, on the other hand, still oblivious to the prejudice of their world, offered a friendly smile to the newcomer.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?" the intruder asked with an aristocratic voice that sent shivers of self-consciousness running down his spine.

"Sure, go ahead," the redhead patted the free place next to her. The brunette gracefully sat down under both Snapes' heavy stares. If the pureblood felt bothered by the intense scrutiny, she showed none of it. "I'm Lily Evans..."

"We left King's Cross over half an hour," Severus cuttingly pointed it out in haste, before the pureblood got a chance to make a derogative comment over Lily's surname. "What were you doing all this time, pacing in the corridor?"

Lily sent him a disapproving look, while Ed, coming back from whatever trance he had been under, simply leaned forward with growing interest. The newcomer however, appeared nonplussed by the borderline aggressive tone, as she gracefully rose an eyebrow.

"Actually, I was sharing a compartment with my cousin and his new buddies, but after the conversation shifted to an argument over the best ways to inflict dung bomb on innocent bystanders, I felt compelled to leave. Now, if my presence is a problem to you, please just say so already and I will find other people to go bother."

Before Lily could formulate an opposition, Ed smirked with fond amusement. "Nah, that's not necessary. Sev is just generally rough around the edges as a rule. Nothing personal."

Severus grunted a vague agreement under Lily's pointed stare. "Well, I, at least, feel your pain," she said with a compliant smile the other girl returned smoothly. Snape couldn't help but resent the affirmation, since neither Edmund or himself were the type to debate over  _dung bombs_. Even Petunia did not sink so low, though fashion trends hardly classified better in Severus' books. "Why do I get the feeling something awful is brewing right now?"

"About my cousin and his new crew of pranksters? Because you have good instincts, I suppose. Who do you think will play the role of 'innocent bystanders' for the next seven years?"

Edmund and Lily shared a short laugh as Severus merely smirked at the just remark. Perhaps the well-behaved girl wasn't so bad after all. "Good point. Who are we to be wary of, exactly?"

"Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, though the latter is more of a follower than instigator, from what I've gathered. I'm Susan Black, by the way."

In a way, Severus had been wrong. She wasn't just a pureblood, she was way more than that. A Black, of all people, and one willing to consort with 'unsavory' people such as half-bloods and  _mudbloods_. Perhaps she just hadn't caught up with where the three of them came from, but it seemed unlikely. How  _exciting_.

"Then we don't have much to be worried of," the twin Snape dismissed, unusually talkative. Edmund often assumed the role of speaking in their stead. Today however, his brother went oddly silent, apparently too busy trying to take Black apart with his eyes. Odd. "Potters go to Gryffindor, and Blacks to Slytherin. This friendship will be over soon."

Black smiled secretively without gratifying the snorting black-haired boy with an answer, while Lily kept a confused expression, for the muggleborn was hardly informed on Wizarding political matters. Severus never quite found it within himself to break her sheer happiness at the idea of Hogwarts with long-overdue explanations of prejudices and  _blood purity_.

"The Sorting isn't done yet, Sev," finally intervened Edmund with a carefully blank face. "We may have some surprises this year. I'm Edmund Snape, and the grumpy sod is my brother Severus."

Black casted an incredibly heavy glance whose significance Severus couldn't decipher for the life of him at his brother's face. "Enchanted."

.

.

IV. Something Valliant

.

The more Kingsley got to talk with the cheerful Lucy Prewett, the more he grew convinced Frank's tales of his cousin's eccentricities were completely exaggerated with the underlying hope none of his friends would take her seriously when she finally came to Hogwarts.

Because Lucy Prewett had lots, lots of things to say about Frank Longbottom. Things of golden quality as a teasing material, and she wasn't afraid to share with the class.

"And then, Frank cried out, of all things to say, 'It's not what it looks like, I swear!' whereas he still had his hands covered in blue paint!"

The whole compartment busted out laughing as the fair-haired first year reached the peak of her anecdote with a huge flourish gesture of the hands, picturing Frank trying to defend himself with impressive accuracy.

Kingsley was not ashamed to admit he was still shedding tears of mirth when the compartment door opened abruptly to let the subject of their discussion's red face appear.

"I can't believe you!" Frank pointed his traitorous cousin with a clearly false expression of betrayal. "We agreed never to talk about the Blue Paint Incident ever again!"

"Sorry, cos," she laughed with sheepish grin. "Couldn't resist the appeal of the stage. On the plus side, look who I've found !"

"Mrs. Toad!" Frank jumped next to Lucy, his misery quickly forgotten. That dude wouldn't hold a grudge even if it was biting his ass. "Why didn't you come find me? I've been searching the whole train for ten minutes now."

Lucy made room for him to sit next to her and put the adventurous amphibian from her lap to his. "I knew you would back sooner or later. Better than search the whole train for  _you_."

Frank rolled his eyes at her, unimpressed. "Yeah, and get the chance to dirty my name behind my back, you filthy traitor."

Now that the place on Lucy's lap was free, her rat peaked from her bag and jumped on her legs. Without missing a beat, the girl stabilized her pet on her lap.

"Don't be so dramatic, Frank," she laughed it off with delighted blue eyes while running smooth fingers on the squealing rat's fur. "That wasn't calculated, just a fortunate development."

"Mrs. Toad?" Marla, a third-year Ravenclaw chuckled with at pointed look at the pouting Gryffindor. "What kind of name is that?"

Now, that was something Kingsley had been wondering for  _years_.

"You can't blame me on that account, I got no part whatsoever in the naming of my own pet," Frank denied as he affectionately patted said pet's head. "Lucy's idea. Told you my cousin was barmy. Her rat is named Ripitchip of all things! Where did you find my toad anyway?"

Kingsley grew definitely admiring of the girl's complete indifference at the comment on her lack of sanity. Probably because she knew she would get back at him sooner or later. Or maybe she really was barmy.

"A compartment of first years."

"Yeah? Did you get their name, so I would know who to thank for the heroic rescue?"

"I did the heroic rescue, I'll have you know!" she grinned, before her smile turned oddly strained. "Peter Andrews. And Remus Lupin. But mostly Peter."

Frank cheered at that. "The fearless Peter, facing many adversaries to save the fair maiden Mrs. Toad! I shall remember that name!"

Kingsley rolled his eyes at his best friend. And he got the gall to call his  _cousin_ eccentric. Pot and kettle, those two. "You do that."

.

.

V. Something Wicked

.

Funny how it was the small things that hurt the most in the long run.

It was Peter resisting the urge to rant at Susan when he caught his mother's beauty products on the counter because 'honestly, the rest of us have a right to exist too, Sue'.

It was Susan unconsciously seeking Edmund's eyes to share an exasperated look after Sirius managed to recuit his impressionable younger brother for whatever childish mischief he had in mind.

It was Edmund teaching Severus how to lace his shoes, while trying not to drown under the memories of the smiling girl named Lucy Pevensie who made bunny ears with her own shoelaces 'and aren't they super cute, Ed?'.

It was Lucy waking up in the middle of the night from another nightmare where bombs exploded on her roof, calling desperately for her big brother Peter that wasn't there.

It was small things that hurt the most. And it was the small things that somehow made their eleven-years long heartache better.

Peter caught the scent of Lucy's usual strawberry shampoo and nearly wept. Susan's fingers brushed over Peter's arms for half a second, and she released the breath she hadn't been aware of holding. Edmund watched Susan sit in front of him and his head spun madly with reminders of the debates they used to have over Narnia's political issues, Lucy's newest whim, or what they were going to have for dinner. Lucy almost stumbled upon Edmund in the bend of a bookshop's shelf and had to physically restrain herself from hugging the hell out of him.

It was getting off the train to Hogwarts and realising the Pevensie family was somehow reunited once again, right back in the game to fix whatever shit needed fixing.

.

.

September 1971, Cartwright Home

_Dear Pete,_

_A private school in Scotland? Only available through owls? You're totally having me on, right?_

_I mean, I have no idea how you managed to get your dirty paws into an actual domestic owl. Well, when I say domestic...can you believe that evil spawn of a bird ate my toast? My toast, perfectly toasted, with jam and everything, right under my nose! So rude, man!_

_Of course, Charlotte thought it was the next best thing right after the invention of the phone. 'She's so cute, so smart, I want one like that, say yes, daddy, you're the best!' Girls, honestly. You're so lucky not to have an annoying sister to endure, let me tell you._

_Seriously dude, is that for real? Not that I want to doubt you or anything, but unless you have a secret stash of money you didn't tell me about (perfectly understandable), how did you pay for the fancy school? Did you got a scholarship? No offense, but you're hardly the most devoted student out there, Pete. And why Scotland, of all places!_

_Mah, listen to me ranting like my mum at a wedding. I mean, if you're cool, I'm cool. Bring the evil birds, I'm ready for this shit. It's gonna be real weird without you here to watch my back, though mate._

_Jack says 'Hi' by the way. And then 'In Scotland?'. And then 'A what? What the fucking flying hell?'_

_An eloquent man if there ever was, our Jack._

_Anyway, stay in touch, through owl or whatever takes your fancy. Don't be a stranger. And of course we'll watch out for your mum. What do you take us for, bro?_

_Your toastless but ever faithful friend,_

_Lucas Cartright_

_PS : Watch out for my sister, would you? Since the Owl Incident, I'm pretty sure she's planning your wedding already. Not that I wouldn't love having you as a official brother, but I wouldn't wish Char on my worst enemy._


	4. Under the hat

" _Unlike my siblings, I never had a trigger moment where everything came back rushing to me, for the simple reason that, I never forgot. The moment I was cognitive enough to understand my name was Lucy Prewett, I was old enough to remember the woman named Lucy Pevensie, Queen of Narnia._

_My first word was 'Aslan'. My family thought it was the toddler translation for Fabian's name, a fact he never tired to brag about to Gideon. They couldn't have guessed it was really a cry for help._

_And so I waited in silence. I waited for Peter, for Susan, for Edmund. For Aslan._

_I waited for eleven years."_

_._

_._

I. Something Magnificent

.

" _Oh my, how fascinating. It has been centuries since I last Sorted anything even remotely royal, let alone a King in person. Welcome to Hogwarts, Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia."_

"Thanks, I suppose. Is it possible to ask you to keep this information to yourself? I wouldn't want to be institutionalized for severe delusions so early in my scholastic career."

" _Naturally. My job is to Sort, nothing more. I reveal nothing of what I learn inside a student's head to anyone, including the Headmaster. Now, where should I Sort you? Honestly, it's not even difficult, for this House clearly had been founded for people like you...Better send you to..."_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

.

.

"Hey, come sit with us mate!" a friendly Gryffindor Peter was sure he had never met before waved at him with enthusiasm. "Thanks for taking care of my toad on the train. I swear she lives only to make me look like a complete moron!"

Lucy's cousin, concluded Peter as he sat next to the group of older students. He looked little like her, with his tall stature and neat black hair. Peter felt viciously happy to notice so, and quickly berated himself for the bitter thought.

Besides, his younger sister's relative may not share many physical features, but he did have the same blinding smile.

"Not that that's much of an achievement," smirked a dark-skinned boy, to which his offended friend responded with a playful elbow into the ribs. "Congratulations getting on Gryffindor. I'm Kinglsey Shacklebolt, and the toad idiot over here is Frank Longbottom. We're third years."

"Thanks, pleased to meet you as well. I'm Peter Andrews," he replied in kind to the grinning pair, before turning towards Lucy's cousin. "No thanks needed, I did nothing but hold your toad for two minutes before your cousin came to rescue her from my evil clutches."

The two friends busted out laughing at the younger boy's romanced report of the event. "Sounds like Lucy alright!"

Before he could find an appropriate reply to the fair jab at his sister's expense, everyone's attention got snatched away as Black, Sirius, probably related to Susan, got Sorted to Gryffindor. The whole Hall fell dead silent, as the black-haired boy gave back the hat to a bemused looking McGonagall with a shaking hand.

Peter's heart tightened with compassion in his chest, as he got an eyeful Sirius' lost expression. After a quick glance at Susan's resigned face, still standing with the other first-years, he began to clap loudly. Frank's stunned expression turned amused, and he started cheering with enthusiasm, leading the whole table of Gryffindor clapping, shaking glasses, and shouting "We got a Black!".

"Come here, mate," called Peter, as Frank had done for him not two minutes ago, while making room next to him. "Peter Andrews."

Sirius sat in the empty seat with a grateful nod at the smiling blond boy. "Sirius Black."

"Your sister?" asked Peter with a pointed look at Susan as she made her way towards the waiting deputy Headmistress.

"Cousin."

The pair watched with unwavering intensity as their common relative gracefully sat on the stool and put the Hat over her black curls.

.

.

II. Something Gentle

.

" _A Queen of Narnia, again? Did I get the whole set then? That's my lucky day."_

"...A hat is reading my mind and making jokes about it. Disturbing, but hardly the weirdest thing I've seen. Are you talking about Peter?"

" _Yes, yes, Peter the Magnificent. He will do marvelously in Gryffindor, so will your cousin Sirius Black. But you won't do, not nearly impulsive enough. You won't do in Slytherin either, Susan the Gentle, no matter what your current family is expecting from you. A Hufflepuff, maybe? You could, but with a well-organized mind like yours, and your natural sense of logic...Yes, better send you to..."_

"RAVENCLAW!"

.

.

The moment Susan reached her new House's table, Andromeda engulfed her in a bone-crushing embrace.

"Susie, congratulations!" her older sister cried out with happiness and uncharacteristic loss of composure. "I'm so glad you got into Ravenclaw."

The youngest Black sister managed to answer the seventh year Ravenclaw's proud beam with a small smile of her own, while sitting down next to a skinny first-year, Clark Adams, as the tiny boy shyly presented himself.

Susan hated the pureblood part of her that snorted 'mudblood' at her new housemate's skittish behavior.

She then turned to give a wide glance at the Gryffindor table. Sirius, sitting next to Peter, busied himself chatting with a jovial older year, while the redhead muggleborn she had met inside Edmund's compartment, Lily, kept on giving her cousin suspicious glances. Susan couldn't find it within herself to feel sorry about the badmouthing of her own flesh and blood. After all, people deserved a fair warning, and according to the instinctive synergy she had witnessed between Sirius and the Potter scion, they would need it. Hell would be set loose sooner rather than later with those wild two.

Sensing his sister's scrutiny, Peter glanced her way and nodded in recognition at her grateful smile for taking her cousin under his wing. Aslan knew Sirius would need all the support he could get within his own House, for some older members were already glaring at the new addition to Gryffindor with wariness, not to say clear hostility.

At the Sorting of Lupin, Remus to their House, Peter was the first to clap, greeting his flushed tiny new housemate with a huge knowing grin Susan was deeply acquainted with, having been the recipient of it many times before.

"Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion are going to freak out." winced Andromeda as she followed Susan's look. "Ravenclaw is tolerable enough for Blacks, but  _Gryffindor_?"

Too true, unfortunately. Andromeda's own Sorting had made little noise, aside from Bella's occasional sneers, but sneering went within her lovely sister's very nature anyway. Gryffindor, on the other hand, was not only unacceptable, it was unthinkable.

On the good side, no one would pay any attention to her own Sorting outside the Slytherin tradition with the enormous turmoil her unconventional cousin had generated.

"Were you expecting anything else from Sirius?" Susan all but shrugged, with apparent indifference hardly reflective of her inner uneasiness.

James Potter, to the surprise of no one, got Sorted into Gryffindor in a matter of seconds, and joined his new roommates at the table with a loud 'we did mates!' self-congratulation. Sirius high-fived him with a happy laugh as he made room for his newly-found other half. Susan was expecting news of their marriage any time soon. How scandalously delightful.

But her attention got snapped back at the Sorting as "Prewett, Lucy" was called by the Deputy Headmistress and a golden-haired tiny girl walked towards the stool with an expectant grin.

.

.

III. Something Valiant

.

" _Another Narnian Queen, again? Well, welcome, Lucy the Valiant."_

"A talking hat? I never met a talking hat before! It's so nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sorting Hat. I heard you used to belong to Godric Gryffindor, is it true?"

" _Likewise, and yes, absolutely. I have been Sorting the students of Hogwarts since its foundation. Now, where to put you...with a name like that, it should be oblivious, and you would do well in Gryffindor, very well, indeed... But with a heart like that, and an inner sense of loyalty to the core, better send you to..."_

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

.

.

Back to her reigning days, Lucy used to be rather close friends with a badger named Milo, who worked in the kitchen and made the most amazing summer salad ever. He and his family were the nicest bunch ever, always supporting each other, sharing everything.

Hufflepuff, Lucy thought as she joined their table, felt just like that. No emblem had ever been so appropriate.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff, Miss Prewett," a smiling prefect shook her hand, while inviting her to sit among the other first-years. "Any relation to Fabian and Gideon Prewett?"

Lucy giggled in anticipation. The poor representative of authority was probably trying to establish whether or not the latest addition to their House considered blowing up Dung Bombs or charming other students' underwear as an appropriate hobby. The infamous Prewett twins had left some trace of their passage in Hogwarts, as Gideon fondly put it.

"My older brothers," Lucy answered with a huge grin, and the prefect smiled back uneasily.

From Gryffindor table, Frank sent her enthusiastic thumbs up. She waved back, relieved to know her cousin didn't seem much upset she hadn't ended up in the same House as him. Next to the Longbottom heir, Peter caught her eyes and beamed at her, before mimicking the sound of a croaking toad. Remus Lupin, the timid tawny head sharing her brother's compartment on the train jumped at the unexpected sound, startled, before breaking into a small smile at the blond's antics. Said pet's owner laughed good naturedly as did his dark-skinned best friend, Kingsley, while the others within earshot stared with confusion. Lily Evans, the friendly redhead she met at the bookshop with Ed, followed Peter's line of sight and waved at Lucy with a huge smile, to which the youngest Prewett answered with equal enthusiasm.

Speaking of Edmund...here he was, among the small group of yet unSorted first years, harboring a deeply bored-looking expression that would have fooled Lucy had she not been very knowledgeable on Ed's set of various blank faces.

Standing right next to him, his fraternal twin, Severus, kept on sending sporadic depressed glances at the Gryffindor table, where Lily sat between Remus and another first year girl Lucy had forgotten the name of. However both their attention got snapped back at the matter at hand as "Snape, Edmund" got called by Professor McGonagall.

.

.

IV. Something Just

.

" _And here comes the last one, but not the least. I have the feeling you will be the hardest to Sort, Edmund the Just."_

"I'm not sure if I should feel flattered or not. I thought my Sorting would be obvious enough."

" _And why is that? One childish mistake, and the rest of a life of devotion and loyalty is worth nothing? Why do you even bother then? Sure, Slytherin would suit you perfectly, but so would Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Maybe it's time to forgive yourself, Edmund the Just, for the people you had hurt have since long forgotten your error."_

"My betrayal, you mean? Well, I haven't. Are you here to psychoanalyze me or Sort me?"

" _The two go together, I'm afraid. However, I may have overstepped my boundaries. My most sincere apologies. Do you have a preference then?"_

"Slytherin."

" _Yes, for your brother indeed. You're not even sure he will go to Slytherin."_

"Please. Of course Severus will go to Slytherin. This House wouldn't have any reason to exist if he didn't."

" _And what about your other siblings? Don't you want to be with them, after so much time?"_

"I will still be in the same school, as I recall. They will be fine, I trust them to take care of themselves. Severus, on the hand, is at a...  _fragile_  step of his development, like I used to be. I don't want him to find his right path by making the same tragic mistakes that I did if I can help it."

" _Very well. If you are so sure of your choice, better send you to..."_

"SLYTHERIN!"

.

.

The moment the Sorting Hat finally made his choice after excruciatingly long minutes of deliberation, Severus sighed deeply with relief. Edmund nodded at his brother as he passed in front of him on his way to his new House table under Slytherin's polite clapping and occasional traditional Gryffindor sneers. He discreetly smiled at Lily's hesitant wave and Peter's nod.

Slytherin students eyed him drawing closer to their table with varying degrees of curiosity. Snape. An unknown name to the rather small circle of 'pure' families. Most of them were likely pondering over his pedigree. For a house priding itself on cunning skills, the lot of them were terribly predictable.

"Congratulations," a prefect with neat shiny long hair took upon herself to greet the new addition of yet unknown quality to their House. "I'm Narcissa Black, five year prefect."

"Thanks," answered distractedly Edmund without taking his eyes off his brother, who was currently putting the Hat on his head. "Any relation to Susan Black?"

Half a minute later, the Sorting Hat shouted "SLYTHERIN!", without any surprise from Edmund's part. Sev smirked with satisfaction as Professor McGonagall took back the ancient relic from the top of his head.

"My younger sister," replied Narcissa, before adding with a pointed look at Severus making his way towards them. "And I take this boy is your brother?"

"Fraternal twin," said Edmund without paying attention to his fellow housemates' interested glances, before grinning at Severus. "Hey brother. Seems we're more alike than anyone thought. I'm utterly shocked."

Sev nearly rolled his eyes at his antics. "Drop the act Ed, and move your arse, would you? You're taking up half the bench."

A second year sitting right next to Edmund snickered at the wide eyes he made at his brother. "Are you calling me  _fat_? Right in front of the pretty lady, besides? Have you no shame, you sneaky traitor?"

The so called 'pretty lady' eyed them with hidden amusement and growing consideration. "Well, aren't the two of you  _lively_."

Edmund had never heard the word  _lively_  associated to such underlying disdain, but he could easily guess the misconception was common from a pure Slytherin's mouth. He smirked unabashedly at Susan's sister's blank face. Lively indeed.

Whereas Severus, awkward teen if there ever was one, blushed profusely at the comment, which did nothing to compliment his ghost-like skin tone. The former King could seriously have pinched his red cheeks.

"Oh lady. You have no idea."

.

.

September 1971, Black Manor

_Dearest Susikins,_

_Well, well, well...I cannot say I'm surprised about your Sorting; like I've always said to Mother, you never had it in you to manage Slytherin. It's not really your fault, I don't blame you. Some of us just aren't born to be great. At least, you didn't dishonor the family name, which is more than our cousin can say._

_I don't even know if I can consider that bloodtraitor as my relative anymore. Gryffindor, can you believe it? Even Hufflepuff would have been less shameful. Embarrassing for sure, but better than a house of mudblood lovers and brain-dead bloodtraitors. Beside, Narcissa wrote to me the little shit was consorting with the Potter heir and mudbloods already, of all people in that damn school._

_Everyone is furious at home, naturally. I mean, you should have seen Aunt Walburga's face, I thought she was going to explode then and there. Not that I don't feel her pain._

_It's not like there is much to be done about it though. Uncle Orion started paying extra attention to little Reggie, as if his older son was dead already. Which in a way he is. Nonetheless, Mother, and I second her, is ordering you, Narcissa and Andromeda to have as minimal interactions as possible with the bloodtraitor._

_Now I know you are close friends with him, for reasons I never could quite grap aside from the fact that you are of the same age, but_ _this has to end_ _. I mean it, Susan, don't go playing stupid if you don't want to be shut out of the family with him. Don't think we would hesitate. The family shall stay pure, at any cost._

_That being said, I wish you a good year at Hogwarts. No matter how full of mudbloods it is, there is plenty you can learn there. Make us proud._

_Your sister Bellatrix_


	5. A day in the life at Hogwarts

" _For my eight birthday, I asked for fencing lessons. My mother, so relieved I was slowly returning to my normal behavior didn't even bother arguing over the danger of the activity. My mother hates violence in any form, which proves what a terrible son I make to her. She never complained though._

_But fencing lessons I asked for, and fencing lessons I got. I don't know what I was expecting exactly, but I sure as hell didn't get it. I mean, fencing is pretty different from the style I used to have, if only for the weight of the sword. The sport requires quickness over strength, and agility over endurance._

_Edmund would love it, really, vicious sneaky bastard that he is. I missed him. I missed them all, as if I had just noticed a deep wound that had always been there._

_Anyway, the activity at least had the merit of allowing me to unwind all the anger and frustration and grief I was trying to keep bottled up. Without much success, according to Lucas, Jack and my mum who had to walk on eggs around me for weeks._

" _I don't know what had gotten into you, dude," Lucas had complained afterwards, "but I felt like I was trying to befriend a furious bear while praying not to end up as your future meal. It ain't a good feeling. Don't do it again."_

_I didn't do it again."_

.

.

I. Something Magnificent

.

Peter Pettigrew had always known he wasn't anything special.

'Fat ass' his neighbors snickered to his face. 'Not the brightest pencil in the box' winced his aunt at her own daughter when she thought her 'retarded' nephew wouldn't hear. 'A good boy' his mother smiled at him, probably because she couldn't find anything better to say.

But Peter had endured their contempt with the knowledge that, he, at least, was  _magic_. Since his father had left his muggle mother three years after his birth, Peter had the debatable honor of being the only wizard of his family. So he might be a bit overweight, and yes, he could hardly claim to be a genius, but none of them,  _none_ , would ever do what  _he_ , dumb fat Pete,could.

So Peter had known, had prepared himself for the fact that once in Hogwarts, this advantage would be lost because _everyone_  here was magic, therefore the plump boy would go back to his status of ugly wallflower.

But to have  _another_  Peter to share a five bed dorm, one that seemed like a fitter, manlier, more confident improved version of himself, it was just too much.

So no, Peter Pettigrew did not like friendly Peter Andrews. At all.

"So, Andrews," Sirius casually threw his arm around the blond's wide shoulders as the five first year boys left the Gryffindor common room. "I'm afraid we're having a bit of an issue here."

Andrews smiled indulgently at his awfully tactile roommate's display without bothering to remove the invasive limb off his shoulders. "Is that so? Can't say I've noticed."

Lupin, who had been following Andrews as if he was the Messiah or something, bit back a smirk at his friend's repartee.

"Well yes," went on the Black heir, ignoring the interruption. "This dreadful two Peters business. It's confusing. Especially for James, poor thing has such a small brain."

The so called idiot, who until then had kept silent to preserve his concentration on the task at hand, read, trying to tie his necktie without running into innocent bystanders, let out a bark of indignation. "Hey!"

"And what are you suggesting then?" Andrews smirked as he discreetly rolled his eyes at Peter as if they were life-long friends sharing a joke. "That one of us change his name for the sake of Potter's fragile sanity?"

As if. As far as Peter was concerned, there was no problem in first place, Andrews could just stay Andrews, end of story. But it seemed Sirius didn't shared the same opinion.

"Nothing so drastic, my friend!" he laughed it off. "What about you're Peter and Pettigrew is Pete?"

Andrews shrugged indifferently while the little group grew closer of the Great Hall. "Sure. Shouldn't you ask the other person concerned though?"

All eyes turned on him, except for James', still lost to his battle against his own clothes. Peter felt himself almost physically shrink under the spotlight.

"I...er...I don't mind," he said, his voice barely above whispering. Pathetic. Just pathetic. Even Lupin, king of all pathetic things, thought so, as his expressionless face turned briefly compassionate. You knew you had hit the bottom when the kid who jumped when you said his name  _pitied_  you.

A complete lie, of course he  _minded_. Peter had been lame Pete all his life. He didn't wanted to be Pete anymore. But the friendless boy had long accepted his opinions hardly counted, especially if he wanted to make a place for himself in Gryffindor.

And Peter wanted friends. Cool friends like James Potter or Sirius Black. Desperately.

"It's settled then," concluded Sirius with a satisfied grin.

.

.

II. Something Gentle

.

Marlene McKinnon thought she had never been made so damn aware of her own deficiencies since she had met Lady Susan Propriety -really-is-my-middle-name Black.

Honestly, just the way she sat in class screamed well-bred elegance, one that Malerne couldn't even hope to achieve in a hundred years of intense training. Where Marlene slouched on her own chair, Susan sat up straight, the epitome of polished style. Where Marlene seemed to float in her second-hand robes, her fuzzy brownish hair wide and unruly, Susan's own perfect braid of pretty dark curls fell neatly on her pristine dark robes.

It was  _frustrating_ , if only because she had never  _cared_ about that before. Besides, Black had been nothing but perfectly courteous, even to clueless muggleborn Aurora Sinistra. More than her pre- delinquent cousin could say.

Which, in the end, only made things worse. If only she had acted as the pureblood condescending bitch everyone expected, at least Marlene could have resented her without feeling so terribly  _guilty_.

Because, c'mon, even her  _wand_  looked as classy as her mistress did, all thin and elegant and pure  _white_. Wait...what?

"Hey, your wand is pretty weird!" Potter, sitting with Sirius Black in the row behind Susan and Georges Greengrass', called her out. Thank Merlin for Gryffindor's complete lack of respect for people's right to privacy, for Marlene knew she wouldn't have had the gall to ask herself. "What kind of wood is that?"

"Godswood," Sirius answered with a proud grin before his cousin could. "Pretty rare, according to Ollivander."

A redhead Gryffindor with a non-nonsense expression Marlene had yet to remember the name of snorted at Black's boast. "Not that rare. Edmund's wand is made of Godwood too. And just look at Andrew's."

The Ravenclaw followed the Gryffindor's stare to a tall blond boy, who smiled sheepishly at the attention, a white wand twirling between his long fingers. "Yeah, mine too, well spotted Evans. Sorry to steal your moment of glory, Susan."

Marlene wondered why the muggleborn called Evans by her last name and Black got to be Susan. Maybe simply not to confuse the two Blacks.

"I shall live," chuckled the Black girl with an amused glance her cousin's pouting face. And here Marlene thought well-behaved ladies were only allowed polite smiles.

"Is my class so boring you feel the need to have debates over wands?" McGonagall interrupted the discussion, her tone so cold Marlene's insides may have curled up a bit.

Before she turned her attention back to her cushion, Marlene wondered whether or not anyone else had noticed the highly suspicious wink Peter had sent to Susan.

.

.

III. Something Just

.

Edmund Snape was a mystery, and Dorcas Meadows really, truly hated mysteries, if only for the fact you never knew when they were going to blow up to your face. Which was mostly the same reason of her visceral distaste of Potions. So one could just imagine the thrill having to deal with the two combined at least once a week. Joy.

"So, on a scale from decent enough, to public danger, how much exactly do you suck at Potions?" And that was the first sentence Edmund Snape ever said to her, as he sat on the stool next to hers.

Dorcas turned towards her new neighbor, trying not be too oblivious in her surprise. Edmund Snape, halfbood extraordinaire, usually sat next to his brother Severus and kept his interactions with his other housemates to the strict minimum, from what she had seen since the beginning of term. Not that Dorcas herself had any room to talk, since she had sat alone in most of her previous classes. Non-Slytherin didn't wanted to sit next to a slimy git in the making, and Slytherins avoided known half-breed sympathizers like the plague. Ever since her father's scandalous remarriage a few years after her mother's demise to a  _werewolf_ , the formerly respectable Meadows family had fallen to the status of  _persona non grata_  among the persons of the  _ton_.

Nothing the Meadows girl hadn't expected coming to Hogwarts, but still, rejection  _did_ hurt, even from prejudiced bigots.

"How am I supposed to know, it's the first time I've had Potions," she rose an eyebrow. "But according to my previous culinary experiences, not very good. You?"

Snape's face contortioned into something between a smirk and a wince. "Terrible, absolutely awful. I'm afraid all the potioneer talent has gone to Severus' side. Usually I compensate for the handicap with my awesome good looks and shining personality, but somehow I feel this isn't gonna help me today."

Dorcas let out a laugh despite herself. Clearly, the poor sod hadn't heard about Slughorn's little fetish and his SlugClub. Her father actually used to be one of his little favorites, but well, that was before. "You do know how to make a girl's dreams, Snape. How come you're not sitting with your other half then? Lovers' quarrel already?"

Edmund chuckled warmly, probably surprised to stumble upon a Slytherin with a sense of humor, even as dry as a summer day in Sahara. "You seriously need to get your mind out of the gutter, Miss Meadows. No such thing, Slughorn just felt the need to separate us, for our own sake you understand, because 'we're not gonna make the effort to socialize otherwise'. Me thinks he just had a bad experience with twins and potions combined."

Quite  _touché_ , actually. Perhaps there was hope for this Slytherin after all.

"Ever heard of the Prewett twins?" Dorcas grinned as her new partner perked up with interest. "Let's just say table 2 didn't look nearly as much as a disaster zone before their passage, or so I've heard. So, does this mean I got the wrong twin? Is it too late to ask for an exchange?"

The so called walking Potion disaster openly laughed, unbashful. "Afraid so. You're stuck with me, Miss Meadows."

Dorcas eyed Severus' grim face as he ignored his own new partner's, Arcturus Rookwood, hostile glare. Somehow, Edmund hadn't been lying when he boasted on winning the good looks. On the 'shining personality', she had yet to decide.

"How terrible," she deadpanned. "I shall try to make the best out of this dreadful situation then. And drop the miss, would you? Just call me Meadows or Dorcas."

"Sure. I won't accept anything else than Edmund or Ed then Dorcas," he cheekily whispered at her as Slughorn sternly asked for everyone's attention to start the class.

And so started the collaboration of one Edmund Snape and Dorcas Meadows, Slytherin outsiders and Potion brewers extraordinaire, if only for the fact the most innocent component acquired remarkable explosive proprieties despite all physics laws when passed between Ed's hands.

Years later, Dorcas would swear she ended up owning more life debts than any eleven year old's ever did for all the times she stopped the wrong Snape brother from blowing their whole class up.

.

.

IV. Something Valiant

.

Even David Jenkins, the most muggleborn wizard to ever pass through Hogwarts doors had heard of the infamous Prewett twins and their reign of terror, despite the fact he hadn't known magic even  _existed_  three months ago.

Turned out Lucy Prewett, their younger sister, would end up just as barmy, because who else would manage to bring together Slytherins, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors at the Hufflepuff table for dinner without generating a war of epic proportions after less than two days of classes. Stuff of crazy legend, that's who. With an emphasis on the 'crazy' part.

"We're not supposed to sit here, Ed," hissed one of the first year Slytherins at the other, in a remarkable sense of self-awareness.

"And whyever not, Sev? It's not written anywhere we have to eat with our own House. Am I right, Susan?" the so-called Ed shrugged before smirking at the Ravenclaw brunette sitting in front of him.

"Technically no. It just isn't done," the pretty girl explained with a very factual kind of tone that just screamed Ravenclaw.

Not without reason, as David noticed the open stares of the other students at their little congregation of oddness.

"Well, now it is," smirked Ed. "We are just...what was that again Lucy?"

The blond Hufflepuff at the center of this madness chirped happily. "Promoting inter-house friendship! Oh, here comes Lily! Hey, Lily!"

While Lucy waved enthusiastically at a startled first-year with flame-red hair, Ed's brother leant towards the bemused-looking older Gryffindor sitting right next to the beaming Hufflepuff. "Don't  _you_  mind eating with  _Slytherins_ , Longbottom?"

Longbottom smiled indulgently as he helped himself to a fair portion of french fries, non- pulsed by the borderline aggressive tone. "I grew up with Lucy. After a while, you just learn to go with the flow and ignore the madness. French fries, Ed?"

David didn't get to hear the Slytherin's answer, with the arrival of the redhead girl at their table. "Hi guys," she said hesitantly. Seemed like the grumpy Slytherin wasn't the only to keep his sensibility about reality here. "What are you doing?"

Ed rose an eyebrow as if she was the one daft here. "Well, eating, of course. And promoting inter-House friendship." Both Longbottom and Prewett cheered at that. "Wanna join us?"

David almost choked on his pumpkin juice at the guy's nerve. The elephant-sized bollocks this Slytherin had.

"How could I say no when you put it like that?" Lily giggled at her friend's bold cheek as she sat down between the twins. "You too Severus?"

"I got blackmailed," he deadpanned. "Don't judge me."

Lucy leant to pat Severus' cheek with compassion, completely dismissing his growl of protestation. "Poor thing. You're such a tyrant, Ed."

"Excuse me! In Slytherin, blackmailing is a perfectly valid method of communication," the black-haired boy defended himself with a comical haughty air, while Longbottom busted out laughing at the other twin's flushed face. "We're reaching a cultural gap here, my dear Hufflepuff."

"Cultural gap, my ass,' mumbled his brother, seconded by Susan's skeptical but amused glance and Lily's snort.

"How did you find your classes, Miss Prewett?" Susan diligently made the effort to redirect the conversation to safer topics.

David silently applauded the exploit, but couldn't help thinking the effort was lost on this particular crowd.

"Oh, just Lucy please! Absolutely amazing! Today, we learned in Charms...Blimey, isn't that Peter and Remus coming over here? What do you think Frank, should I call them over?"

Longbottom laughed it off, unconcerned by the madness. "To the two guys you spoke only once to collect my rebel toad? How are you even on a first-name basis already? Only you, cousin, only you."

Despite Severus' justified mumbles of 'no more Gryffindors, Merlin have mercy', Lucy seemed to take the jab to her sanity as approval. David had since long stopped trying to follow her line of thoughts. Perhaps this Longbottom bloke was into something after all with his 'don't fight it' philosophy.

"Hi Peter, Hi Remus! Want to eat with us?"

And this was the start of what David's roommate John Mamillan would later name rather accurately "Lucy's Lunch of Liberal Lunatics"

.

.

V. Something Wicked

.

The former four Kings and Queens of Narnia held their first secret council for eleven years at the delicate time frame between dinner and curfew inside a empty classroom. Not the most glamorous meeting place they'd ever had, but it would have to do for now.

"What took you so long?" Peter frowned at Edmund as his younger brother finally saw fit to join them.

Susan held back a grin at Edmund's attempts not to suffocate under Lucy's rather enthusiast version of a hug. She was just rather amazed the cheerful blond had managed to hold herself back until now.

"It's not easy telling Sev off," retorted the Slytherin with his head by Lucy's, irritated. The twins had always spent their time as good as attached to the hip, and being sorted into the same House didn't rearrange things. Not that Ed didn't love his brother to pieces, but the fact was it didn't made their life any easier right now. Especially his.

"Whatever," dismissed the former High King with a preoccupied tone. "So...Does anyone have an idea of what happened to us exactly?"

The three others felt silent, until Susan's very factual voice rose for the first time. "We must have stumbled upon the wardrobe again. We got back to England. And then we died and got reincarnated. Maybe."

Edmund held his hair in exasparation. "It doesn't make sense! We passed through the wardrobe in 1940, and spent ten years in Narnia. Then how did we end up reborn in 1960?"

"The Wardrobe doesn't work like that, Eddie," Lucy interrupted her brother. "Remember the first I went to Narnia? I spent at least one hour there, but less than a minute passed in England."

"Well then, why didn't we get back our young bodies? I just don't understand."

"Maybe we spent too much time in Narnia," Susan mused out loud. "The time gap might have gotten too significant."

Peter sighed at the argument. "This is all speculation. We just have no idea what's going on here."

The former Valiant Queen puffed her cheeks in irritation. "Oh come on! Our rebirths are anything but random. We're all wizards and witches, born at the same year in the same country.  _Obviously_ , it means we have something to do here! We're on a mission guys, can't you see it?"

The other three eyed her with various degrees of incredulity. Peter broke the following silence first. "A...mission. What kind? Have you heard anything?"

"Well...Not really, I don't know," Lucy visibly deflated. "But surely Aslan..."

"Aslan!" Susan interrupted anger, pink with aggravation. "That is all you can think about, Lucy! Aslan, Aslan, Aslan! If Aslan is indeed responsible for our current predicament, it would have been nice to send us a memo!"

"Enough Susan," reprimanded Edmund while he took his half-tearful younger sister into his arms. "Shouting and throwing baseless accusations won't get us anywhere."

The former Queen lowered her head in shame, not far from crying herself. "I...I'm sorry, Lu. I'm just so tired of feeling like a pawn on a game board I can't even see. If we're indeed being used, I would at least like to know why."

"We're not pawns," the upset blond whispered into the crook of Edmund's neck. "We're Narnian Kings and Queens."

"No matter our position on the board, it doesn't change the fact that we're not the one making the decisions about our lives, Lucy," Susan shook her head sadly.

"Let's not run into hasty conclusions, Su," Peter gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "On a side note, no matter whether or not there is a bigger purpose, I would like to say how glad I am to be reunited with you again, real siblings or not."

His younger siblings beamed at him, and Peter felt whole again, until Ed had to open his huge mouth and ruin the moment. "Man, when did you turned into a gigantic sentimental  _pouf_? I don't even recognize you anymore. It's okay to be gay, alright, but a guy deserves a fair warning, don't you...Oow!"

Peter didn't even remember how much he had missed hitting the back of his douchebag of a brother's head until he had the occasion to do it once again.

.

.

September 1971, Weasley Burrow

_Dear Lucy,_

_Don't ever think that just because you're off to Hogwarts and temporarily out of my reach that everything would be forgiven at Christmas, young lady! Arthur, Gideon and Fabian have already been fairly punished for their actions, and so shall you! And don't even try to pull off your huge puppy eyes, it won't work on me, certainly not. Denying it is out of the question too, your three shameless accomplices may have taken the blame for you, but I_ _ know _ _this was your idea, Lucy Prewett. I've changed your diapers, the day you could ever hope to fool me has yet to pass._

_I still can't believe you would offer my baby a broom behind my back! My one-year old baby! And now I can't even take this device from hell back if I don't want to pass for the Bad Guy, because Bill is already in love with the thing. Damn Quidditch._

_Know that every ulcer I develop in the future will be your fault, you miscreant! That's if Bill doesn't break his neck and live to see the day where he could legally drink Firewiskey. Why, just why am I surrounded by Quidditch fanatics?_

_On a side note, congratulations for your Sorting into Hufflepuff, dearest. We're all very glad and proud of you. I hope Frank isn't too disappointed, he was really looking forward to seeing you at Hogwarts, but nonetheless, I doubt the feeling will linger very long. That boy just doesn't know how to remain depressed for more than a few minutes._

_Please write to me all your (very legal, please don't go the Fabian-and-Gideon-way) adventures, and the friends you're making, I can't wait to see you at Christmas._

_With all my love (though still very angry!),_

_Molly_

_PS : Fabian has been pestering me about 'that cocky Snape boy' who I'm pretty sure he's never met. Something you want to share with your attentive older sister, dear?_

Hastily added at the end of the previous letter:

_Dear Lucy,_

_Don't worry too much about Molly, she will have the time to cool down by the time you'll be back at home. Our sacrifice has not been meaningless though, and I added a picture of Bill as proof so you can see for yourself how thrilled he is with his new toy._

_Congratulations on your acceptance to Hufflepuff, from myself and your brothers, even if I'm sure they sent you their own already. I look forward seeing you at Christmas, our poor Bill cannot wait anymore!_

_Your most devoted accomplice,_

_Arthur Weasley_


	6. Purebloods and Muggleborns

" _They watched me all the time, waiting for the moment I would break. Mother, Cissy, Sirius, even Bellatrix, who I honestly thought not to have the physical capacity to feel concern, much less remorse._

_I hated it. I felt like I was back playing weak Susan Pevensie, the useless burden her more courageous siblings had to carry. Susan the Gentle indeed. They probably hadn't found a better moniker for me._

_Unsurprisingly, Andromeda took it the hardest. She likely felt guilty for not stopping Bellatrix, which was stupid. No one could be blamed for our psycho sister's actions aside from herself._

" _Is there anything I can do to help you, Susie?" she would ask, with a despair so heartbreaking in her voice, mother would have thrown a fit._

_I thought long and hard. I thought of the little girl lost weaponless on a foreign magical land where half the population wanted her dead. I thought of the little girl who, against all odds, became Queen._

" _A bow. I would like to have a bow."_

_If Andy had any doubt on my sanity issue, she didn't anymore. But behind mother's back, she got me a bow, small, thin and lovely, of dark flexible wood._

_And a part of me stopped shivering._

.

.

I. Something Magnificent

.

Here went Mary MacDonald's hugest secret: she loved to make lists. A bit shameful for a Gryffindor to feel the urge to classify and order everything, but honestly Mary had already come to the conclusion she didn't made a good Gryffindor in the first place.

And inside Mary's list of Persons The Most Likely To Come Comfort Her After Crying In Public, Peter Andrews didn't even make it to the bottom. Not that she had anything against the boy, but he was, well, a  _boy_. Yet, against all odds, here he was.

"What...What are you doing here?" she sniffed, trying to look threatening. She swore if he came to mock her...well, she had nothing, since huge crybaby Mary was probably just going to burst into even more tears. Gryffindor her ass.

Her housemate took an adventurous sniff and winced. Well, of course, it smelled terrible here. Mary had chosen a long since unused part of the Owlery on purpose. She herself didn't mind the smell, it had nothing on her parent's farm. And that way, she had been sure, no one would come annoy her. She had been wrong.

"Looking for you," he replied easily, like it was evident. "Weird place to take a break."

Mary frowned at the blond boy as he drew closer. She liked it here. Quiet and smelled of animals. It reminded her of home.

"Why are you here?" she tried again, as he sat down next to her, his long thin legs aligned next to her smaller owns.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I just tell you?"

Had he always been so cryptically  _annoying_? Mary, having barely spoken to anyone else other than the girls of her dorm had no idea. "Yes, I...I got that, but  _why_?"

Her classmate let out a barking laugh. "I came across Potter when I came to send my letter. He was freaking out about 'making girls cry' and 'Mum is going to kill me'. The poor sod begged me to fix you, because he had no idea what to do. I bet he was this close to burning down the Owlery in order to make the evidence disappear."

Mary let out a watery giggle despite herself. "I guess I owe you one then, Andrews."

Peter smiled at that. "Nah, I needed the Owlery anyway."

The two of them fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence, before Mary felt the need to break it. "You're not going to ask?"

"Well, after my long experience of dealing with upset girls, I know it's better to wait than pry."

She took a moment to imagine where this 'experience' could come from. "Sisters?"

His easy smile turned a little strained, before her new companion eased it back. "Something like that."

"It's...it's really stupid," she confessed, staring at the floor with embarrassment. "Do...do you know what an house elf is?"

His head tilted on the side with a confused but curious expression. "Err...can't say I do."

"Well, I didn't either," she winced at the reminder. "Apparently, they work as servants for wizards. Doing all the chores, cooking, cleaning and washing our clothes. They are hundreds of them here, though we're not supposed to see them. They stay in the kitchens during the day. I didn't even know there were kitchens at Hogwarts."

Peter patiently waited for Mary to take her breath. "I saw one today. A small, grey creature, with huge eyes and ears, only wearing a loincloth. It bowed to me, said something like 'please excuse Biddy, young mistress' with a high-pitched voice and disappeared with a loud crack."

"I freaked out," she confessed with a small voice. "Potter ran to see what was going on, and when I explained, he just  _laughed_  at me. I never felt so...so  _stupid_ , you know. I love it here, the magic and everything, but sometimes, I just feel so..."

"Inadequate?" proposed Peter with a thoughtful smile.

"Yes! Exactly, like I don't really belong here. Less than Potter or Black or everyone that hadn't learned about magic less than a year ago."

"Hmm, I know how you feel," he nodded along before laughing. "Know what? I squealed like a baby when I opened my first Chocolate Frog. Remus was too nice to laugh at me, but still."

Mary smiled at the scene. "I hate those damn quills. I always end with more ink on my fingers than on my paper. What's wrong with good ol' pens anyway?"

"I would kill for a coke right now. Or orange juice. What's up with wizards and pumpkin juice?"

"I don't have a famous relative for Slughorn to gush over. Sometimes, I wonder if I even register into his field of view."

"I almost lost a finger when Frank tried to teach me how to play Exploding Snap. Look, I still have a scar on my pinkie."

She took the offered hand and put it under her scrutiny with false concern. "Very manly," she concluded, before they busted out laughing like mad chickens.

"Thank you, Peter," Mary shed tears of mirth. "I really needed that. Lily's great, but she isn't nearly as lost as I am. Everything is just so marvelous to her eyes."

And then, miracle of miracle, her blue-eyed knight smirked and took her hand to lay a kiss in the crook of her wrist. What the... "Anytime, fair lady. Please don't be too mad at James. He's not a bad bloke, just a bit insensitive. Eleven year old boys tend to be like that."

She let out a nervous giggle as he released her hand. "And you're not?"

Peter just winked at her without answering before he took off with a last flourish of a bow, and Mary was left smiling to herself like a complete idiot.

Now, was it really that surprising Mary MacDonald might have developed a tiny, barely noticeable, alright-huge-just-stop-laughing-Lily crush on Peter Andrews? No, it wasn't.

.

.

II. Something Gentle

.

Three weeks had passed since the beginning of term and Narcissa was through waiting for Susan to get her act back together.

To be fair, Narcissa might have a been a little disappointed her younger sister didn't get Sorted into Slytherin, but she couldn't say she had been  _surprised_. In the end, it might have been be for the best actually since Susie, for all she liked to play her cold persona, was way too nice, too  _gentle_  for the House of Snakes. She would have been eaten alive, or worse,  _changed_.

However, just because her little sister escaped Narcissa's direct supervision at Hogwarts did not mean she could just go and make a spectacle of herself consorting with known bloodtraitors, and worse,  _mudbloods_.

Narcissa well understood the need to make concessions when outside the Slytherin circle. But to act out-right friendly, in the open, with mudbloods, was simply unacceptable behavior.

Even Andromeda had the good sense to keep her indiscretions a secret. Oh yes, Narcissa knew everything of her older sister's scandalous affair with that muggleborn prefect, what's-his-name  _Tonks_. Even his patronym reeked of the mundane. The Slytherin wasn't too worried though. Andromeda would be back home soon, and their sordid affair would die quickly under Mother's vigilant scrutiny. Some playing around never hurt anyone, as long as it went on secretly and with appropriate caution. Andromeda would be married off to a proper pureblood soon enough anyway, and everything would be back to normal.

Now, if Susan could have the  _common sense_  to do the same. Sirius' Sorting and dreadful frequentations had allowed her to go off the radar until now, since no one paid much attention to the polite Ravenclaw when there was a loud bloodtraitor to spit upon instead, but people were starting to take notice now.

Her foolish behavior needed to stop. Quickly.

"Susan," Narcissa made her attack when she crossed paths with her little sister actually  _helping_  a mudbood. Dear Merlin, where had they go so wrong with her? "A word if you please. In private."

Her sister casually considered the underlying order, before nodding. "Just take those stairs, then turn to the right, and you'll be there," she explained with a kind voice to the frightened looking Ravenclaw.

The mudblood glanced nervously at Narcissa, mumbled a thanks at her sister and practically ran from the pair to the stairs. Good to know some of the vermin still remembered their place.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, Susie?" frostily asked the Slytherin prefect.

Non- pulsed, her sister simply raised an imperious eyebrow. Narcissa absolutely  _hated_ when she played the smartass. "You'll have to be more specific, Cissy."

"Don't play dumb with know what I'm talking about."

Susan leaned against the wall, looking every inch of a regal Queen taking it upon herself to indulge common pettiness. Narcissa could recognize the move because it was  _hers_. "I suppose you have complains to make regarding my 'behavior'."

And wasn't that the understatement of the year?

"I'm not sure you understand what's at stake here, Susan Oriana Black. In case it somehow escaped your notice, our position is compromised enough due to Sirius' despicable attitude. We can't afford your rebel crisis right now-"

"Rebel crisis indeed," her sister interrupted her, her blue eyes shining with unexpected anger. "Because Merlin forbid a Black could ever show some human decency despite the deep inbreeding and brainwashing."

Narcissa took a step back, shocked beyond words. Not by the words itself, she had heard far worse, but by the fact it was her eleven year-old little sister who spat them at her. How could the situation have degenerated so rapidly without anyone seeing it coming? Sirius, she could cope with loosing. They hadn't been that close in the first place, and he had never tried to hide his distaste for the family motto. But sweet devoted  _Susan_?

Sweet Merlin,  _what happened_?

"I'm sorry, Cissy," her cold expression turned apologetic. "I didn't mean to say it like that."

"What...what did they tell you, Susie?" the blond Slytherin put her hands on her sister's shoulders. "I know it's hard sometimes for us, especially outside Slytherin, but..."

She laughed bitterly. "Oh Cissy. No one told me anything I didn't already know."

Susan cupped both Narcissa's cheeks, wiping away a tear the blond hadn't even noticed. "I wish I could tell you. I wish I could make you understand, but I'm afraid words won't get to you."

Then the Ravenclaw took a step back, and Narcissa felt her heart break. She caught the brunette's wrists desperately. "I'm listening, Susie. I'm always listening to you, you know that!"

But her little sister only shook her head and gently freed herself from Narcissa's shaking grip. "No, you're not. Not really. You're too scared to see."

And then, before she left. "I'm not the one who needs to be saved, Narcissa Black."

.

.

III. Something Just

.

The real problem with Edmund Snape, Corvus Avery concluded, was not so much his halfblood status, but the fact that the little shit was damn  _proud_  of his disgusting muggle ascendance.

Because halfbloods, Corvus could take upon himself to tolerate, as long as they knew their place. Take the other Snape, for instance. Now, this boy had showed exemplary behavior, respectful to his betters and bringing his small contribution to the House point by point. There was, of course, his unacceptable frequentations at the Hufflepuff table, but Corvus had no problem relating those misdemeanors on his brother's influence.

Avery still remembered the horrified face of sheer mortification Severus had pulled when Edmund had casually revealed about their muggle father at Narcissa's prompting.  _Priceless_.

"Our mother is a Prince though," the halfblood had hastily added, as if it could catch up his brother's indiscretion. "Gobstone champion for Slytherin team."

Indeed, and stupid enough to actually  _marry_ a muggle. What kind of pureblood lady with any self-respect would resort to such extremes? A worthless one, that was it.

Edmund though, had just chuckled at his brother's justified panic with an indulgent smile. And it was  _intolerable_.

Therefore, Corvus was taking it upon himself to give the dirty muggle lover a right lesson, for the sake of Slytherin, along with second-year Aldon Mulciber and first year Anabelle Rosier. Not that he needed the help against one half-squib ickle first-year, but a public to testify of his exploits could never hurt.

" _Expelliarmus_!" he shouted at the wandering halfblood, as the three of them caught him on his own in an empty corridor. Well not so empty now, but they should be alone enough to do the deed undisturbed.

The halfblood's strange white wand flew from his hand, and Edmund turned to face them, stone faced. Corvus reluctantly granted him points for cold-blooded attitude. Too bad those qualities were lost on him.

"Well, well, what have we here?" the pureblood sneered as he drew closer to his apparently defenseless victim. "Me thinks someone is..."

Then, before either his minions or Corvus could understand what was happening, Snape had him tucked in front of his own body as a organic shield, Corvus' arms painfully locked behind his back. The halfblood taken hold of Corvus' own  _wand_ , as the pureblood could feel the tip of it sinking into his neck. How  _humiliating_.

"Well gentlemen, and milady," Snape smiled pleasantly at Mulciber and Rosier from behind his hostage's shoulder. "What have we here indeed. Me thinks it's a bullying ambush, and not a very well-orchestrated one if I may say so. How disappointing, don't you think Avery?"

"You disgusting halfblood and your dirty muggle tricks," Corvus hissed painfully, as his two cronies shared hesitant glances, unsure of the curse of action to take when one's leader was used as meat shield by the target. "Fight me like a proper wizard if you dare!"

Snape laughed dryly. "A three to one ambush on a clueless first-year, you mean? Thank you, I think I'll pass. We dirty muggles do have a code of honor after all."

Their wand still pointed towards Avery and Snape, Mulciber snarled angrily at the jab, while Rosier's expression turned thoughtful and considering. What the hell was she  _thinking_?

"Well, seems we're deadlocked," Snape cheerfully went on. "But we're all reasonable Slytherins here, I'm sure we can reach an appropriate compromise, right? Drop your wand. On the floor."

Mulciber's eyes grew impossibly wide. "You're joking?"

"Often, but right now? Not so much. Drop. Your. Fucking. Wand."

The tip of his own wand sank further into Avery's neck, and the pureblood painfully realized with a flash of fear that no, Snape was not kidding. At all. "Do as he says dammit!" he croaked at the other two.

Thankfully, they obeyed, Avery's expression turning murderous and Rosier's oddly fascinated.

"Good, now three steps back, if you please," Snape ordered, his voice strangely pleasant, as if ambushes were part of his everyday life. "Now, how about we start negotiating so that this regretful incident doesn't repeat, hmm?"

Anabelle tilted her head to the side, curious. "Negotiating?"

"Well, we're all decent Slytherins here last time I checked, if not decent human beings. I'm sure you lot have complaints about my 'bloodtraitor' behavior, so I suppose I can condescend to tune down my most vocal opinions in public for the sake of your relative peace of mind. How does that sound?"

"And in exchange?" Rosier hastily asked, before Mulciber could open his huge mouth, which Avery was deeply thankful for. Bless Merlin Anabelle had been the one to come instead of her more impulsive older brother as initially planned.

"My, you leave me be. Harmonious coexistence where both parties ignore each other, if you will. No, don't say anything, I know it's not your decision, my dearest minions," he grinned as he slowly drove Avery and himself to the end of the corridor. "But I do count on you to relay the message to the right parties."

Non- pulsed by the minion jab, Anabelle, bless Merlin for her cool head, simply nodded while Mulciber snarled angrily.

"Good. One last thing though," Snape's polite voice turned dead cold, and Avery felt an uncontrollable shiver ran through his spine. "Going after me is one thing, but if anyone even  _thinks_  of attacking the people I care about to get to me, know that I will pay them back, _with interest_. Is that clear?"

All three of them nodded simultaneously, even Mulciber. Avery was struck with the fearful visceral knowledge than Snape could and  _would_  kill them if the need arose.

"Perfect!" the halfblood cheered, back to his usual cordial persona. "On that note, I have somewhere else to be, then..."

"Wait!" Corvus cried out as he finally got released from Snape's uncommonly strong hold. "My wand!"

Snape gave the wand he was still holding a considering glance while he picked up his own from where it had fallen earlier. "Oh this? Well, I guess if someone stays a good boy, it should find its way back to its master eventually."

And then the confusing halfblood was off, leaving the three Slytherins wondering how one first year had managed to best them all without using a single spell.

The next morning, Corvus Avery found his wand waiting for him on his nightstand, along with a note reading 'special delivery, from Santa Claus'. He didn't know what he felt more, relieved to have his wand or terrified of the fact Snape had no trouble whatsoever getting in and out of the third-year dorm unnoticed.

.

.

IV. Something Valiant

.

The wizarding community, according to John Macmillan, could be mostly divided into two categories: people convinced a wizard or witch's value could be defined by their pedigree and people who considered the former category to be retarded inbred bigots.

And then there was the special category of people who didn't even seem to know what the expression 'blood status' could possibly mean. Well, by people John really meant Lucy Prewett, who admittedly deserved a category of her own. And perhaps Xenophilius Lovegood, but the poor sod just didn't seem to be quite there all the time.

Though 'not right in the head' didn't seem as if it were enough of a description to qualify Lucy I-know-where-I'm-going Prewett right now.

"Just admit it, Lucy," the Hufflepuff sighed at his blond housemate. "You're lost."

David Jenkins, one of John's roommates who'd had the misfortune to find himself involved in Lucy's 'I know a shortcut guys' last adventure along with John himself, nodded with conviction.

"I'm not," she protested by reflex, before smiling sheepishly. "Alright, maybe I am. Sorry guys."

John looked around attentively, trying to find anything that would give him an indication of where Lucy had led them. Because, despite having been roaming this castle for a month now, he had absolutely no idea where they could be. Which, all in all, didn't appear to bother Lucy much at all. Few things could bother Lucy anyway, from what Macmillan had gathered.

"John, what do we do?" whispered David at him anxiously as the girl responsible for their predicament went chatting with the closest portrait. "Curfew starts in fifteen minutes!"

The portrait...of course, brilliant! If you're lost, just ask the portraits, his father had said to his son before he left for school. Naturally, David couldn't know since he was...well, muggleborn.

"What is it?" the middle-aged painted witch sneered at Lucy as the Prewett girl tried to attract her attention. "A young lady, alone with two boys! How improper!"

David gaped next to John at the absurdity of the situation. "We're eleven Ma'am..."

John discreetly shook his head at him in dismissal. He had seen some of the old fashioned portraits before, there was little point trying to argue with them. The painted lady ignored them to concentrate her ire on Lucy.

"Well, present yourself and do state your business."

The Hufflepuff girl effortlessly beamed at the bigoted harpy. With a mind so accommodating, John could easily picture how this piece of girl managed to gather Gryffindors and Slytherins at the same table on a daily basis without turning lunch into a bloodbath.

"I'm Lucy Prewett, milady, and I'm afraid me and my crew are quite lost. Would you mind showing us how to get to the Hufflepuff common room?"

"A Prewett, you say," she nodded thoughtfully at the smiling blond. "You do have the chin of a Prewett, my dear. My cousin married one, I remember. Old Light family, the Prewetts. And you hooligans?"

Funny how this quite one-sided conversation reminded John of some family gathering and his Great-Aunt Elsbeth's drunken ramblings. "John Macmillan, milady."

"A Macmillan," the portrait repeated with an approving nod. "Yes indeed, I can see good old Eustace Macmillan in you, young man. And a Hufflepuff, naturally."

Then she turned her hawk-like look towards the last member of their Hufflepuff first-years improvised congregation, who seemed to shrink at the attention. "Da...David Jenkins, Ma'am."

The painted witch rose an inquiring eyebrow. "Jenkins. Cannot say as I've heard of this family."

"I'm muggleborn," he bluntly dropped, his chin setting defiantly under the portrait's disapproving snort. John prepared himself for another endless rant on 'Wizarding preservation' and 'loss of our valors blablabla...'.

"Another muggleborn! This castle is infested with your kind nowadays and..."

"I know, right!" Lucy interrupted the bigot's rant with a completely inappropriate dream-like sigh. "I wish  _I_  was muggleborn. So unfair."

Her two-men-and-a-portrait audience stared at her with startled confusion, and unsurprisingly the painted woman was the first to break the tense silence. "What...What are you saying, young Prewett? You cannot be serious..."

John never thought he would say so one day, but he couldn't help but agree with the painted equivalent of his most bigoted family member. Not that he had anything against muggleborns, naturally, after all they didn't ask to be born among muggles. And he didn't mind muggles either, though he'd never actually  _met_  one, but why would anyone want to grow up  _without magic_?

Even David, the most likely to understand her feelings stared at her with a bemused expression.

"Well, yes," Lucy I-live-to-confuse-people Prewett said with the kind of patient tone John's mother would use on the most dumb troll. "I mean, I love my family, don't get me wrong, but to have the opportunity to share and get the best of both worlds? It's just so  _fabulous_!"

She meant it. She really, honest-to-Merlin meant every word she just said. John glanced David's way, ready to exchange their usual you-don't-know-what's-going-on-either-right look at Lucy's antics, except his friend wasn't looking at him. And John stared bemused as David smiled, really  _smiled_  at Lucy.

And the Hufflepuff was left wondering why he had never seen David Jenkins smile like that in the month they had spent together. And so the seed of self-doubt was planted into his mind.

"Anyway, curfew is near," Lucy went on, apparently oblivious to her audience's gaping. "The common room if you please?"

"Take the nearest stairs, then to the right, and to the right again," the portrait replied by reflex, still obviously confounded by Lucy's very special way of being. Not that John could find it in himself to blame her on that account.

"My thanks," she beamed at the portrait before taking her housemates by the hand. "Let's go guys!"

David opened laughed at the painting's cry of indignation.

.

.

V. Something Wicked

.

"Edmund, this is getting ridiculous," Peter stressed out, his hand spasming at his hip, as if he tried to handle a sword that wasn't here. "And by ridiculous I really mean  _dangerous_."

Lucy's eyes glanced from one brother to another with distressed anxiety. Of all her (former) siblings, she was the one who hated it the most when they fought, even more than Susan the Gentle, who like Lucy herself had yet to side on the upcoming conflict between their brothers.

"Oh hush Mama Bear," Edmund dismissed the blond's concerns with fond exasperation. "You're fretting even worse than Lily, honestly. I've got everything under control..."

"You've got  _nothing_  under control Edmund!" Peter interrupted his younger brother with growing anger. Any time now Lucy expected him to start pacing. "If I hadn't been there this afternoon..."

"But you were there, so there is little point discussing 'what if'. Besides, it's not like they would have  _killed_  me, Peter. It's a damned school, for Aslan's sake, so stop overreacting!"

Peter stared at his brother with something like anxious fury spreading on his youthful features. Perhaps the pacing stage of Peter's Stress Management would skip directly to Throwing Random Things after all. "Overreacting? How am I  _overreacting_ now? You were bullied by  _fourth years_!"

Edmund shrugged under his siblings' heavy stares. "I'll get them back later. Don't worry, I have a plan."

Before Peter could go on another rant, Susan decided to enter the discussion. "Why are they focusing on you, Ed? From what I've gathered, Severus doesn't have nearly half as a bad time that you do."

The implied accusation of him purposely attracting attention in his brother's stead went unsaid, but heavy nonetheless. Edmund fidgeted with discomfort and sighed, more sensible to Susan's factual and sneaky attack than Peter's row front.

"Look, if you want to be accepted in Slytherin, either you go with the flow or you can manage to be respected enough to say what you want. Since we all know I'm not the type to go with the flow, it only leaves me with the last option."

Peter visibly deflated of his anger, directly falling into the Hopeless Depression stage. "But...perhaps we could transfer you to another house..."

"No!" Ed straightened with righteous pride, and Lucy suddenly remembered the Just King standing on his throne, regal and severe. "I  _chose_ this House purposely, I'm not backing down now at the first difficulty."

Peter's eyes narrowed with renewed irritation, and before he could start to scold Edmund on his 'damn foolish pride' Lucy spoke for the first time since the subject had been brought up. "You said you had a plan, Ed."

Her dark-haired brother smiled thankfully at her. "If they sent fourth-years against one first year, it means the people who are  _really_  making the game in Slytherin are testing me. I already got them thinking. A bit more, and they will try to make a deal with me."

"It could actually work. Balthazar Nott has been watching you very closely lately," Susan mused out loud, thoughtful. Of all of them, the Gentle Queen was probably the one with the most keen understanding of Slytherin's inner workings, despite being in Ravenclaw. If the girl raised as a Black, a family more Slytherin than Salazar Slytherin himself, considered Edmund's plan viable, then it likely was.

"Great," Edmund grinned with his trademark told-you-so-moron smirk at his older brother. "So, who's game to help me prank slimy Slytherins for the Greater Good?"

.

.

October 1971, Snape Home,

_Dear Edmund,_

_I must admit to being very disappointed with your attitude. I'm well aware you care nothing for Slytherin politics, even less for Purity convictions, you made that pretty clear years ago, but it doesn't mean you should purposely antagonize everyone in your House. And don't even try to deny it, I know how much you like to rile up us 'inbred dumb bigots' and our 'retarded racist convictions'._

_I'm not asking you to actually fake any adherence to the movement, only not to make of yourself and your brother living scapegoats for the whole House to lash out on. And make no mistakes, you're a Slytherin. No matter your claims, only other Slytherins will ever be on your side. It is the way at Hogwarts, evil Snakes against the rest of the school._

_If you can't find into yourself to rein in your righteous impulses for your own sake, please at the very least take your brother's into consideration. Merlin knows life won't give him many gifts without his twin purposely sabotaging his chances._

_Hoping you will deign to take my words into consideration,_

_Your mother_

_._

Added at the verso of the previous letter,

_Dear Eddie,_

_I think you made your mother right angry, she's been fuming for a good week about 'that thoughtless boy' and 'nothing to do in Slytherin, should have been Sorted into Gryffindor'. I assumed she was talking about you. Only you my boy has such a gift to annoy her. Must be for your talent to hit way too close to home for her taste._

_Since you two scoundrels left, the house feels horribly quiet. Never thought I would actually miss the endless arguments you have with Eileen, or Severus almost blowing up the house with his Potion experiments or whatever it is Eileen let him do in our basement. Some things are better left unknown, my Da always used to say._

_Nonetheless, I'm really glad you're having your fun despite getting put into a House of 'self-righteous dead-brain pricks'. Your words, not mine. Your friends seem to be very nice, especially that Lucy lass. How is little Lily fairing by the way? Sevy stayed very evasive on the subject in his letters, which doesn't sound like him at all. God knows how much he likes to talk about that girl._

_Eagerly waiting for Christmas to come,_

_Dad_


	7. Chapter 7

_I remembered Eustace Scrubs at eight-years old as the biggest brat that ever walked on this Earth, which coming from pre-Narnia me was quite the achievement. At sixty-five, I feel sorry to relate that my distant relative still hadn't gotten much better on the Human Decency department._

" _What is it?" he grumbled at me when at eight years old I came to his house, after I managed to get Lily and Sev to cover for me. Not that the venerable Dr. Scrubs had any idea of the trouble I had to deal with for the pleasure (sic) of his company._

_I put on my most charming smile and blathered my cover story, where I pretended to be running a project on children deported from London during the WW2. I doubt he completely bought it, Eustace had always been a selfish and spoiled prat, but not stupid. However he couldn't find any other reasons for a child to be asking questions on his long-dead relatives._

" _There isn't much to tell," he finally said. "My four cousins all went to the same country mansion during the war, and no one ever saw them again. The old Professor who took them in was arrested after the war, of course, but they never found any evidence of his implication. The old bat kept pretending the children had disappeared into 'Narnia', a magical country of his imagination. Completely barmy, let me tell you."_

_My lovely cousin took a deep breath, clearly delighted to have the occasion to gossip on his unfortunate relatives. "My aunt and uncle never recovered the loss of their children. Four at the same time, you think. My uncle died at war two years later, and my aunt just...withered away."_

_All lost to his retelling, Eustace didn't even notice my brief expression of shock and grief. Though I never thought I would say that, thanks Aslan for his nombrilic blindfold._

" _I still have their things in my attic," he mused out loud. "Want to see it?"_

_I did. Very much so. At the same time, I was completely terrified._

" _That's funny," he frowned at me as he held in his dirty hand our last picture taken with all the family. Peter, Susan, Lucy, my parents smiling hesitantly, and my very own grumpy nine year old self. "You kinda look like my cousin Edmund."_

_I beamed at him. "Must be a coincidence." And really, what else could it be?_

.

.

I. Something Magnificent

.

.

One could have thought that after five years living inside the Gryffindor Tower, where generally speaking the word discretion had lost his original meaning and rules of personal space applied loosely at best, not to add two years under her belt at dealing with her Quidditch team's version of 'team bonding time', Charlotte Wu would have grown used to ambient  _chaos_.

And one would be right. Most of the time. But a girl did like to enjoy a quiet afternoon engulfed in a comfy seat inside her own Common Room from time to time, without bold first years starting World War III-sized mayhem. What happened to the blessed time where tiny freshmen didn't dare bother their elders?

Great, now she felt like her Aunt Alberta, who did complaining like some did sports, the indubitable Queen of 'How Everything Was Better In My Time'.

"I can't believe it! Admit it, you  _cheated!_ " one of the first year whined out loud. James Potter, if Charlotte could remember correctly. One of the easiest to recognize with his messy hair, who took as much place than his oversized ego did and his (comprehensive) obsession with Quidditch. The brat had spent his first week at Hogwarts harassing their captain to 'just take him onto the team already'.

Speaking of the Devil..."Hey Cap, what's going on with Potter?" she leant towards Bertram 'Bertie' Weasley, her fellow Beater and Quidditch guru, half spread on the couch next to her.

"Exploding Snap litigation, I believe," the red-head nodded sagaciously, as if speaking of a grave subject and not of a childish dispute. On the other hand, Bertram probably didn't mind the mayhem himself, with the chaos gene running in his family of patented craziness. Damn Weasleys. Damn Gryffindors. Damn  _boys_.

"Can't you do  _something?_ " the fifth-year Gryffindor almost begged as the hysteria reached its peak on the other side of the Common Room. And they said women were the emotional ones. "Potter worships you, he'll do anything you say. I bet you could talk him into building an altar in your honor."

An expression of fake horror fell onto his face, though Charlotte had no trouble whatsoever catching the glint of amusement into his eyes. "And attract his attention to my presence? Merlin no! It's gonna be bad enough when the kid makes the team next year."

On the Exploding Snap Drama's side of the room, Black, Potter's other half, was laughing his head off at his best friend's failure, which probably didn't help the situation. On the other hand, Potter's offender and Player Extraordinaire, a blond plump boy Charlotte couldn't for the life of her remember the name of, aside from 'Potter-and-Black-sidekick', looked this close to exploding into tears anytime now. Gross.

"You're not even sure Potter will make the team," the female Beater pointed out as she turned back her head towards her captain's freckled face.

"He will. I've seen him play," Bertram shrugged confidently. "Great flyer, too bad he's very well aware of that. Besides can you imagine if the brat  _doesn't_  make the team?"

Both Quidditch players shivered at the reaction Potter would have if he was rejected from a game he actually  _cared_  about. Oh may the Lord have mercy on their souls, the  _screams..._

Ever the diplomat, Black patted his friend's back. "Could have been worse Jamesie. Imagine if you had lost to  _Snivellus_."

Charlotte had no idea who Snivellus could be, but the comparison obviously didn't make the situation better. Although she somewhat doubted appeasing the mood had been Black's objective in the first place. This kid just thrived on chaos, like a Weasley perpetually high with recreational drugs.

"You've seen him fly? Spied on the firsties' flying lessons again, didn't you?"

Bertram put his hand against his heart with an offended expression her fellow housemate didn't buy for a second. "You make me look like some kind of creepy stalker, Charlie! It's all for the sake of the Team, I'll have you know."

Yeah right. "Whatever," she dismissed. "Seen anything you liked for next year, Cap?"

At his Beater's prompting, the Gryffindor Captain abruptly sat to face her with the excited grin he usually kept for Quidditch related matters or particularly nefarious spells. "Thought you'd never ask. See this kid over there? The blond one."

Charlotte followed the sixth-year Gryffindor's line of sigh to a couple of boys sitting near the commotion. The smaller one, a scrawny tiny thing floating into second-hand robes was burying himself into a voluminous book, trying to ignore the fight. Perhaps he really could, after all sharing a dorm with those three hooligans, well two and a half, must grant the other occupants solid abilities of adaptation.

Hardly seemed like fine Quidditch material though. Therefore Bertram's miraculous future rookie had to be the taller boy seating next to the tawny-haired bookworm. The blond firstie for one didn't bother to hide his amused exasperation at the pathetic spectacle his fellow classmates displayed.

"Isn't he Muggleborn?"

Charlotte, herself part of that particular community called Muggleborn when one wanted to be polite, and  _something else_  if not, had to work  _hard_ , very hard, to get to an even level compared to kids who had been flying their whole life. As a first year, she had flown as skillfully as a drunk potato, or so some her most generous fellow students had pointed out to her.

Strangely, they were least likely to speak their mind since she had been given the license to send murderous magical balls to their face. Mystery, mystery.

"Yep, makes it even more impressive," the captain nodded with a satisfied grin, as he was speaking of his own achievements. "That's our next Keeper, by the way, since Carter is leaving next year."

Well used to Weasley's assumptions when it came to his favorite sport, Charlotte raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Yeah? And has our new teammate been informed of his future position?"

"Well no, but who would refuse a place to the team?" the red-head asked rhetorically, genuinely confused. Quidditch freaks, honestly. Not that Charlotte wasn't deep into the game herself, but she hadn't lost her sense of reality nonetheless.

"Excuse me," an unfamiliar voice interrupted her musing about Bertie's many, many delusions.

She snapped back to reality only to face the very subject of their conversation, Peter Andrews in the flesh. Good Lord, since when had he been standing there, that freaky  _ninja_? And what had he heard? How  _embarrassing_.

"You need something kid?" Her captain answered in her stead, unbashful and unbothered. Weasleys only had a distant understanding of that concept of shame, at least this Weasley did. He knew it existed, as something that happened to other people.

A bit like Potters actually, if the display Charlotte had to endure gave her any indication. Thankfully, the three hooligans had stopped their public  _scène de ménage_. Unthankfully, they were staring at Charlotte, Bertram and their roommate now with unhinged curiosity, and what look like betrayal from Potter.

"I was hoping I could get a word with Miss Wu, actually," Peter answered, polite as fuck. Damn, Charlotte totally shipped polite boys. The lack of exposure to basic decency had made her vulnerable.

At that, Bertram smirked like a shark that just smelt fresh blood, before raising from his seat. "Sure, bro. I'll see myself out."

Before leaving, her beloved captain granted her one last glare she took the liberty to translate into  _"If this is about Quidditch, you better hook that fish, girl."_

She rolled her eyes at him. What did he take her for, a  _Quidditch whore_? Unlike  _some people_ , Charlotte still had principles.

Fortunately, karma felt appropriate to avenge her offended sensibilities immediately in the holy form of James Potter, Annoyance itself made Man. The Potter Scion, sensing an opportunity to harass his favorite upper-year, fell on Bertram like a hunting falcon on its prey.

It was  _glorious_.

Peter thought as much, as he laughed heartily at the Quidditch captain's hasty retreat. "He certainly is something, James."

That he was. Something made of nightmares and tantrums, but something alright.

"Sure," Charlotte shrugged. "So, how may I be of assistance?" See, she could be polite too.

"Oh well, you're a Muggleborn too right?"

"Yep. What of it?"

Peter smiled back sheepishly. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

It said a lot about the company Charlotte kept that she couldn't remember the last time her friends had played the delicate approach before dropping intrusive inquiries to her face. So. Cute. "You can. But I am keeping the right not to answer or to slap your face if I don't like it. Consider yourself warned."

"Fair enough. Do you still have... _muggle_  friends, back home?"

Ah. So this was the whole point. Bertram would be so disappointed it couldn't count as a Quidditch Crisis. "Not really. But I wasn't really miss popular in the first place. I'm gonna take a guess and assume you do?"

Peter sighed. "Yeah. I've got two best friends back home, and I just... _hate_  to lie to them."

At that, Charlotte found herself nodding with understanding. Lots of muggleborns cut out most ties with their original world for the same reason. It was just simpler that way. "I get it, really. But it's not like you can tell them. It's a bit harsh to hear, but if your friendship is strong enough to survive the distance and the secrecy, good. If not, well...sometimes friends grow apart. It's just things that happen, and not only to muggleborns."

Peter nodded along, pensive and just painfully sad.

"Sorry I couldn't be more helpful," she added lamely.

At that, the first-year smiled tentatively. "No, no, you were just being truthful. I guess I'll have to think it over. Plus, I did made some good friends here."

And then he added with a wicked smile. "And there is Quidditch."

Charlotte barked a delighted laugh. That damn  _kid_.

.

.

II. Something Gentle

.

.

There had to be many appropriate ways to meet the family of the girl you very seriously considered spending the rest of your life with. Ted Tonks would bet getting surprised behind what was supposed to be a discreet alcove with his tongue deep into the mouth of said girl could in no way qualify as appropriate. Especially when the member of the family in question happened not to exceed the delicate and impressionable age of twelve.

So. Well.  _Awkward._

"Susie!" Andy removed herself hastily from his embrace and readjusted her messed up skirt. As if it could undo the fact her younger sister had just surprised them making out like crazy. "What are you doing here?"

Yeah kiddo, what were you doing going into the alcove  _everyone_ , including muggleborn rookies, knew was made for.

Susan Black, cool as a cucumber, simply blinked at her sister. "You forgot your book at the library."

And indeed, there in her tiny arms it lay, ' _Advanced Potion-Making'_ , by Libatius Botage. Teddy had never hated any book with such a fervor before, not even those nauseating romances his sister kept on leaving everywhere in his house for innocent bystanders to see.

Ice blue eyes slid from Andy's frozen smile to himself. God, what were they making their kids of at the Black House? The speculative stare 'Susie' gratified him with could have sent a starving troll the other way to think about all the mistakes he made with his life. At least it did for Ted.

"Well sister," the youngest Black finally deigned to release him from the Stare of Doom, if only to skip to the verbal slaughter. "Are you going to introduce me to your... _friend?_ "

Andy, bless her soul, kept her cool for the both of them. Meanwhile Teddy's brain went into an uproar, frantically trying to both summarize all the information he had on Susan Black and to  _get a hold of yourself man, seriously, you're the grown up here_. With mild success, unfortunately.

Teddy knew,  _knew_  that the subject of his girlfriend's family was a terribly sensitive one. How could he not, when they had to hide their relationship from everyone, including their closest friends? While Teddy wanted more than anything to be able to hold her hand in public, to steal kisses in the corridors and even get detention for 'inappropriate behavior, I expected better of you two', to scream for all the world to hear: "see that marvelous woman? she's  _mine_ , and I'm  _hers_."

They would never stop looking at him like trash, the people Andy called family. No matter how hard he worked, the medals he won, the jobs he would get, it would never be enough for the  _Pure and Ancient House of Black_ , breeding madmen, and occasionally rare gems since the beginning of time.

Except for Susan Black. He'd heard a lot about the elusive Susan Black, Ravenclaw Extraordinaire and lady of her state. From Andy naturally, who alternated from thinking of the world of her sibling to worrying like crazy about her. But also from his housemates, who despite being more than prepared to hate the hell out of the Black couldn't find anything wrong with her manners and attitude. Yet she remained friendless among her own House, preferring the company of Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and  _Slytherins_  of frankly disputable mental health.

The only member of Andy's family who might not have hated him on principle, and whose opinion  _did_  matter a lot to his girlfriend, and he had managed to mess it up by presenting himself as a horny pervert. Which he kinda was, but in a very respectful way. Oh god.

Great job, Teddy. Awesome, even.  _Outstanding_. You wanted to do an impression on the girl,  _mission accomplished_.

Meanwhile, outside Tonks' battlefield of a brain, the world kept on spinning on its axis like it always did, indifferent to the trials of poor sods who messed up their 'first meeting impression'.

"Oh, course," Andromeda smiled pleasantly, as her wandering hand betrayed her nervousness to both her boyfriend and sister. "Susie, may I present to you Edward Tonks, my fellow Prefect?"

"And boyfriend," Ted's vocal cords finally took back their function at the worst possible time, as Andromeda gasped in horrified surprise at his sudden declaration. No point denying it, the girl had eyes after all. And perhaps Teddy was kinda tired of denying something he was so proud of.

He extended his hand towards Susan.

The brunette eyed warily the offered appendage that had been on her sister's bottom not five minutes ago. And  _smiled_. "Susan Black. I'm pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Edward."

Next to him, Andromeda deflated with relief. Well, nothing to be scared after all. Perfectly normal eleven years old.

"None of that, I beg of you," he protested with mock horror. "My name is Ted, or Teddy, or Tonks if you must, not  _Edward_."

"Very well Ted," Susan giggled, before smiling pleasantly. "Since we're all friendly and on a first name basis, I shall warn you that I know places where no one would  _ever_  find your body, should you ever think of hurting my sister."

Never mind what he said before. No one was normal here, nope.

"Fair enough, Susan," Ted Tonks shrugged. "Fair enough. Although I bet Andy would have delt with my body long before you got there. Just saying. "

At that, the first-year smiled evenly. "My sister can be surprisingly sentimental sometimes."

Andromeda rolled her eyes at the two grinning pair. "Please, do go on as if I wasn't here. I don't mind at all."

She really didn't. Ted could tell.

.

.

III. Something Just

.

.

Natalia Zabini's mother had a saying she loved to repeat to her children any time she could: "Adaptation is the key kids. Once you settle and stop thinking, you may as well roll over and let yourself die. Traditions are for Blacks, or worse,  _Macmillans_. Don't become a Macmillan. Always thrive on chaos."

Mostly Natalia thought that her mother was so full of shit she might as well pee brown, but this lesson she had taken to heart. Zabini  _loved_  chaos. And pretty things.

By that logic, it made perfect sense for Natalia to consider the walking disaster deceptively named Edmund Snape as the most hilarious thing that happened to Slytherin in at least a decade. Plus, the wicked boy didn't hurt the eyes either. Had he been older, Natalia would have  _eaten_  him alive.

"What do you think darling?" she whispered to her younger friend's ear like some dirty secret, her painted lips arching into an amused grin.

Annabelle Rosier rose her head from her book and gratified the woman sprawled on the arm of her chair with her Most Irritated Glare. So adorable. "That you should work on your concept of personal space."

The older Slytherin threw her head back with laughter. Sweet, dearest Annabelle. Another pureblood offspring lost to the dreadfulness of traditional education. Yet a spark remained in that one, and Natalia well intended to cultivate it. If only for the sake of the late Lady Rosier, who had taken young Natalia under her wing after Zabinis had fled Italia.

Selene Rosier, despite her awful husband, had been a  _fire_  until the very end, and her daughter had the potential to be so as well. Natalie didn't mind getting a bit burned to see those flames again.

"And deprive the world of my wonderful person? Surely you jest," the Italian leaned even closer to the petite blond and began to play with the platinum bangs. So soft, so prefect. So  _ordered_. Natalia never could stop herself from messing with ordered things. She never tried very hard though.

"What do you want Zabini?" the first-year sighed as she resigned herself to her senior's ministrations. Good. A Slytherin should know when to quit hopeless fights. Morgana knew Annabelle's brother Evan never managed to reach that crucial step of his development, the poor thing.

"My, so cold! Can't I simply want to see my favorite first year?"

"It never is simple with you."

"I hope not, simplicity is such a bore! I wouldn't wish it upon you, dearest."

Annabelle frowned in exasperation. She had a long way to go before reaching that emotionless state she longed for. Zabini sincerely hoped she would never manage it. "I have a perfectly functional name, feel free to use it."

"So you do want me to talk to you! I knew it,  _Annabelle_ ," the Italian practically purred.

"Zabini."

"Yes sweetheart?"

The blond was that close to reach her breaking point. She had that murderous look in her icy eyes. Natalia loved every second of it. "What. Do. You. Want?"

"Well, you never answered my question."

"What question?"

"You don't listen to me at all, darling. It's hurting my feelings. I asked not five minutes ago, 'What do you think'?"

"What about?"

Finally. "Edmund Snape of course."

At that, Annabelle gaped at her before regaining control of her facial motor muscles. Let it not be said the offspring of Sigmund Rosier ever acted in an undignified fashion in public. "What makes you think I have anything to say on the subject?"

As if  _anyone_  in Slytherin didn't have tons to say on the matter. Natalia smiled indulgently. "Well darling, you do share classes. I'm sure you have  _lots and lots_  of juicy gossip to share with an old friend, hmm?"

"Think again. I have better things to do than preoccupy myself with the likes of  _him_ ," Annabelle deadpanned.

That lying liar who  _lied_. Selene would be so proud. But Natalia would have none of that right now.

"Is that so? How come I heard the most particular rumor of a certain  _confrontation_  between the two of you then?"

The older Slytherin almost purred at the expression of embarrassment the blond briefly displayed at her question. Not that the reaction wasn't unwarranted. Rumors had it the tiny firsty had managed to fool three others students on his own, dearest Annabelle included. Natalia would be ashamed too. No, not really, she did not know shame. Natalia would be  _furious_.

"If you already know what happened with Avery and Mulciber, why ask me then?" her adorably reluctant friend glared at her. She was trying  _so hard_  not to pout. Natalia wanted so much to pinch her blushing cheeks.

"Oh, Annabelle, it's like you're not listening to be  _at all_. I didn't asked what happened with the half-blood, but what you thought about it.  _Completely_  different things."

Rosier rose one blond eyebrow with palpable skepticism. "Why would you care about what  _I_ think?"

Because Corvus Avery and Aldon Mulciber couldn't be trusted to find their way out of their own pants, much less give a reliable report.

Because her dearest Annabelle, despite her father's most ardent efforts, had managed to grow into a  _smart_  girl, and she deserved to be listened to more often.

She said, "What can I say, I like the sound of your voice, sweetie."

At that Rosier outright laughed. "Bullshit. The only voice you like to hear is yours Natalia."

"Touché, darling. How you wound me."

Annabelle almost snorted at the ludicrous thought. And then her expression of reluctant amusement turned pensive. "There is something... _wrong_  with him. Snape, I mean."

Bingo. Natalia knew these long preliminaries would lead somewhere eventually. "There are lots of wrong things with him darling. Like his muggle father, the size of his ego, or the color of his socks. That shade of violet should be forbidden from..."

"Not that," Annabelle interrupted her ranting with an exasperated sigh. "Something weird...different. I don't know. Like's he's hiding something huge."

Natalia shrugged with carefully crafted indifference. "It's Slytherin. If you're not hiding something, you're doing it wrong."

"You don't understand. The whole time, he played us like toys. It's not that he doesn't understand how we do things in Slytherin, because he does. Very well. He's just choosing to ignore the rules,  _purposely_. He wants to  _negotiate_ , can you believe it?"

Oh Natalia understood alright. She understood fine the urge to say 'fuck it' to the world. She just knew better.

"Do you know what Nott is planning to do about Snape?" Annabelle mused out loud.

And now she had to ruin their bonding moment with  _Balthazar fucking Nott_. That despicable man.

.

.

IV. Something Valiant

.

.

Funny fact about Lucy Prewett, everyone thought they had her completely figured out. They saw a beaming piece of a blond girl, a hard-working Hufflepuff and an extravagant social butterfly and stopped at that. That was the principal difference between Frank Longbottom and the rest of world, he knew nobody really understood Lucy Prewett, perhaps not even Lucy Prewett herself, and certainly not Frank Longbottom.

If people were onions, then Lucy easily won the title of biggest and most confusing onion Frank ever had the pleasure of meeting. Layers on layers on layers, the whole covered with a blinding persona.

By that, Frank didn't meant his cousin was a fake, far from it. She really  _was_  a beaming piece of a blond girl, a hard-working Hufflepuff and an extravagant social butterfly. A genuinely  _good_ , if slightly barmy, person.

It wasn't a  _lie_. Just a convenient cover for  _Other_  Lucy. The Lucy that had awful nightmares she kept hidden in the middle of night. The Lucy who spent hours alone doing Merlin-knew-what in that damn forest near his house the two of them had been explicitly forbidden to go to. The Lucy that kept a knife in her boot,  _just in case_ , like those paranoid former soldiers that came back from war with trauma the size of Lucius Malfoy's ego.

The Lucy that kept  _secrets_. Big secrets. Secrets that silently messed her up from the inside.

Frank wasn't gonna lie, it hurt sometimes. Because she knew everything there was to know about him, and yet he was left to wonder and rage against the Lucy Prewett Mystery.

Yet the Longbottom heir remained grateful of the bit of insight he did have on his surprisingly elusive cousin. Better to know something was wrong without understanding what exactly than to remain blissfully ignorant that something was happening at all.

And something was happening. Frank could tell from the extra effort Lucy put in her grins. A happy Lucy smiled and laughed, an unhappy Lucy smiled and laughed even harder. To be fair, it required many years of careful study under one's belt to be able to tell the difference.

"Mermaids, Frank, can you believe it? Right under the lake! Do you think I could try to talk to them? 'Cause it would be  _awesome!_ " Lucy gestured wildly to said lake with one hand, as the other remained safely tucked under Frank's arm.

It really would. And the Gryffindor could already picture it, his dizzying ball of energy of a relative, bullshitting her way among the unexpecting Mermaid People. Despite appearances, Lucy had a tangible talent at bullshitting like there was no tomorrow. Right now for instance, Frank had managed to get her alone for the first time in days, and yet here she was trying and almost achieving to distract him. Typical.

Not this time, cos. Nice try though.

"Lucy," Frank quietly said with his voice that meant Serious Business. "What's wrong?"

Here it came, the silent struggle in her expression.  _To tell or not to tell_ , dilemma, dilemma.

"Am I that obvious?" she smiled sheepishly, with a tad of self-deprecation.

Frank couldn't quite help to laugh at the ludicrous thought. Obvious?  _Obvious?_  Nothing about you is oblivious, dearest cousin, aside from what you want it to be.

"No. I just know you."  _Lie, lie, lie._  "You don't have to tell me."  _You never do after all._  "I just want you to know you can if you want to."  _Come on, throw me a bone. You're killing me here._

The grasp Lucy had one his arm got tighter. "I know, of course," she sighed without looking at him. "I just don't want to trouble people with my silly problems."

"I am not  _people_ ," he argued before he could stop himself. Besides,  _silly_  problems? As if Lucy Prewett did those.

She glanced at him with a thoughtful frown. "That you're not."

They walked for a few minutes in agonizing silence, before Lucy took upon herself to put an end to Frank's misery. "I'm...scared that things will fall apart."

Or not. Well, wasn't that incredibly vague and unhelpful?

"Is it about Ed's...situation?" the Longbottom heir ventured a guess. Merlin knew that whole bullying business troubled  _Frank_ , and he wasn't nearly as close to the Slytherin as Lucy was.

Lucy shook her head. "Yes and no. I'm not really worried about Edmund. He has a plan, and if it doesn't work he'll figure something out. He always does."

Ah yes. Edmund Snape. Frank liked the dude, he really did. He made a funny, resourceful, surprisingly open-minded Slytherin. But he just didn't understand the link he shared with Lucy. Fabian had somehow been right, back on that day they had met the Snape twins and Lily at Diagon Alley. Something strange had happened between Lucy and Edmund. Something that had moved Lucy to the core.

It wasn't specific to Edmund either. Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. The four of them together...it was like they had known each other for  _years_. Oh, they spent lots of energy and caution trying to hide it. Hell, if hadn't Frank been working on a Lucy Prewett Study his whole life, he probably never would have noticed.

"It's Peter that's worrying me," Lucy kept going on, oblivious to her cousin's turmoil. "He's just so... _angry_ , you know!"

Frank did not, as a matter of fact know. His mastery of Other People's Delicate Feelings started and ended at Lucy Prewett, a task which, to his defense, was tiring enough on its own. And he certainly hadn't notice anything particular about Peter, aside from a rightful anger at the situation and Ed's stubbornness not to accept help.

But he nodded along anyway, because it was the attentive cousin image he was aiming for. And Merlin knew how hard those veins were to open.

"And Susan! She's acting just so, so...closed! So cold! She won't tell me  _anything!_ "

Now, Frank had to say something about that. If only because it was just rich coming from Plenty Of Secrets Lucy. "Lu, people do have a right to privacy, you know."

"I know that!" she cried out affronted. "but sometimes I feel like I don't  _recognize_  them anymore!"

Ah. Ah. She said it. Lucy froze up, her eyes widening with shock and panic. "I didn't...I have to go."

As Frank watched her shakily retreat to the castle, he wondered whether or not he had really won this round. It didn't felt like it.

.

.

V. Something Wicked

.

.

Peter wasn't afraid to admit he seriously considered calling for reinforcements when he found Lucy crying her weight's worth in tears inside some deserted bathroom. There were some battles a bloke wasn't supposed to fight on his own.

But Lucy had sent the message to him alone, so alone he shall come. "Lucy?"

His devastated sister raised her head from her arms and stared at him with blurry eyes. "Peter..."

And suddenly Peter was back all the way to 1940, when bombs exploded on their roof and he used to whisper into her ears pretty lies. That Dad would be back to them intact. That nothing could happen to them, as long as stayed together.

He sat down next to her, serious as hell. "Just give me names, and I shall bring their head to you."

The Hufflepuff sniffled at him with glints of amusement. A small victory. "I could...I could do that on my own thank you, you idiot!"

Peter nodded gravely, unaffected by the insult to his intellect. "Too true, my Valiant Queen."

"I messed up Peter," the former Narnian Queen finally admitted quietly. "About the four of us. I slipped up to Frank."

Okay. To that point, Peter honestly expected way worse. This shit he could deal with, though diplomacy hardly qualified as his forte. He seriously had no idea why Lucy had called him and not the others but fine.

"Alright, tell me exactly what happened and we'll fix it Lu, I promise you."

"Oh Peter, I can always count on you to tell me what I want to hear," his fair-haired sister shook her head with fond sadness. "We were talking and he kept pushing me to talk about my feelings and stuff! Honestly what kind of teenage boy does that? Aren't you supposed to be allergic to feelings or something?"

The Gryffindor held in hands in front of him in a parody of shield. "I refuse to answer that. On the ground of common sanity for all the teenagers of this universe. But seriously Lucy, what did you say exactly?"

At his inquiry, the Hufflepuff dropped her head with shame. Peter did not like it. At all. "I said...that sometimes I couldn't recognize you guys anymore."

Oh. Well, that stung. "Did you meant it?"

"No! Yes...I don't really know. It's just...things are different now. Not necessarily bad, but different. And sometime I don't know how to deal with it."

Peter sighed. He couldn't say he didn't feel the same some nights. It used to be easier back then, either Susan or Ed would point him the right direction and he would ride sword in hand towards the sunset. Well, not really, but it felt nice to remember the good ol' days like that.

"I get it, Lu, but more than ten years have passed. You can't expect us to be the same."

"I know, and I don't. But some days I can't even recognize  _myself_."

To be honest, Peter had no more philosophy to share on the matter. So he skipped directly to the hugging part. Hugging always worked wonders on his youngest sibling.

"I'm tired of secrets Peter," she whispered into his shoulder. "So tired. And I'm not really upset because I slipped up to Frank, I'm upset I've been lying to him and the others all this time. I want to tell him. I want to tell him everything."

Oh sweet Aslan. May you grant strength to your servant, for he severely lacked it when it came time to say no to those crying eyes.

"Lucy you can't."

"But he wouldn't say anything", she pled her case desperately. "I'm pretty sure Frank had been keeping my secrets for years now anyway."

Peter shook his head. "No Lu, you can't. Not yet."

.

.

November 1971, Black House, Grimmaud Place, London

_Dear Susan,_

_How is it going at Hogwarts, blessed land where-Mother-wouldn't-be-breathing-down-my-neck? Does the air smell like freedom, the food taste of deliverance? Because I truly cannot wait to find out._

_Alright, maybe I'm being dramatic. Don't blame me, it's in my genes, or so I've discovered after living almost one-on-one with Mother and her nerves. We hardly see Father anymore, as he spends his time in his study doing Grown Up stuff. Me thinks he's just trying to minimize his interactions with Mother. I honestly can't blame him, but it would be nice to spend some time with him, especially now Sirius is away. He always managed to find some time for Sirius before, but even with brother dearest turning out such a disappointment, I guess I'm still The Spare in his eyes. At least now I appear in his field of vision._

_Mother however I see plenty of. I think she's trying to turn me into the new heir, as if Sirius was dead and buried already. Thing is, shocking news ahead, I'm not Sirius. I'm not confident, or out-spoken, or stubborn and insanely talented. I'm just me, and even if my older brother didn't turn out the way she wanted, that doesn't mean I can change no matter how much I try to be her perfect heir._

_Oh cousin, if it wasn't for Kreacher, I think I'd go mad. Just like grandpa Pollux, who's absolutely convinced my name is Tatiana and that I'm the Queen of Fairies. Raving mad, I'm telling you. Maybe it's in the Black genes too: the House Black, creator of Drama and Madness since the beginning of time, at least._

_But just listen to me complaining, it's pathetic, so unbecoming of the Maybe-Heir of the Ancient and Noble House Black. I'm sorry to burden you with my problems Susie, as I suppose you have enough on your plate already, I just don't know who else to talk to. I mean, Kreacher is a life-saver, but there are things he just can't relate too, right? And Sirius, well he did send me some scraps of paper describing the 'amazing time' he's having with his 'awesome mates', on your impulsion I presume, but it's not like my brother is the most sensitive person to other people's problems in the first place._

_On a more happy note, I'm so glad to hear you settled well in Ravenclaw. I guess it can be hard for Blacks outside Slytherin, though Andy did seem to adapt just fine. Just so you know, I heard from Mother that you had some made some 'unsavory' relations, although on a smaller scale than Sirius. Please, please be careful Susan. You know how it is here._

_Nonetheless, I cannot wait to see you at Christmas. Really. Please tell me you're coming back for Christmas, otherwise I may self-implode from all the tension. No pressure though._

_Your most devoted (hopefully still sane) cousin,_

_Regulus Arcturus Black_

 


	8. The meaning of family

_The truth is, and I feel awful saying so, but I probably would have gone crazy, well crazier, without Frank by my side during my 'childhood' as Lucy Prewett. Now please don't get me wrong, my family, my Prewett family I mean, is honest-to-god amazing. My sister Molly has a heart the size of Cair Paravel and the strength to follow it. My brothers are so awesome they could have been riding dragons to carry groceries and I wouldn't have been surprised. My father is to my eyes the gentlest soul this Earth ever carried, and I have seen plenty of gentle souls._

_No, they are great. I'm the one weird. Damaged. Aching for a time long gone, in a land probably born out my overactive imagination, with siblings I used to share everything with nowhere to be found._

_Out of us four, I'm the one with supposedly unshakable faith, but I'm only human. Even when I want to believe, in Narnia, in Aslan, in life, there is only so much I can take. And eleven years is a very, very long time when you have no idea what's going on._

_So I smiled. I laughed. I grieved and despaired silently. Waiting and waiting and waiting._

_My siblings laughed when I told them stories of Narnia. 'What an imaginative child', they thought. But Frank believed me. Not for long, for I've been told children are always meant to grow up, but he believed me. He believed in Narnia, and it saved me._

_But it wouldn't be fair to my cousin to say I was only close to him because our apparent proximity in age. Because Frank is an amazing person, far better than I am, and he gets it. When I'm sad but smile brightly anyway, when I'm drowning in memories and fakes silliness, he doesn't really understand._

_But somehow he gets it. It's enough. Or it used to be._

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.

I. Something Magnificent

.

There must have been a time before Peter-and-Lucas-and-Jack, but Jack Cressewell had close to no remembrance of it. He couldn't even remember how the three of them had met. Lucas had naturally taken upon himself to invent a story of their meeting involving a dashing rescue, epic fights against dragons under stormy skies and whatever fantasies Lucas liked to dream about.

"Always thick as thieves, those three." Jack's mum fondly chuckled to her guests while the three boys made a secret operation to raid the kitchen under her nose. And then, "Boys! I said not the vanilla cake!"

"Chatterbox, Blondie and Taciturn, back in town." Lucas' older sister Charlotte would snort at her brother, Peter and Jack respectively. It used to annoy Lucas to no end, though in all honesty the surnames didn't hit that far from home. The noble knight, the talkative nerd and the reserved athlete.

"You just lack a tormented tragic past, Jack, and you could be Dark, Tall and Handsome," Lucas would roll his eyes, while Peter winked at him with complicit amusement. Jack didn't think any of those criteria could apply to a child, but Lucas had never let petty details stop his imagination before.

Jack naturally knew that the three of them wouldn't stay stuck together forever. He just hadn't considered the separation would happen so soon. He had assumed, rather stupidly perhaps, they would go to different universities, if they went to one, one day far, far away from now. Not that Peter would inexplicably end up shipped to Scotland so soon.

The English boy knew, rationally speaking that none of it was Peter's fault, that he didn't ask for any of this to happen. And Jack didn't resent his friend for the secrecy either. Obliviously, Peter was hiding something about his school from them, something big, despite the fact of all of them Peter had always been the one to despise deception most.

Nonetheless, Jack Creswell had been taught to respect privacy, no matter how much the distance Peter's secrets had created between Peter-and-Lucas-and-Jack's dynamics. But his right to privacy had been overcome the day Jack's little brother received a mysterious letter of acceptance to a boarding school in Scotland.

A school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  _Of magic._

Jack rushed to the Andrews' door the moment he learned about Peter's return of Christmas holidays. And his wayward friend opened the door in person.

"Jack!" Peter grinned at childhood pal. "So good to see you mate! I thought we were supposed to meet at Lucas' place this evening?"

Despite what separated them now, it did felt amazing to be in presence of the blond boy again. Like a sudden relief of a wound he tried not to think about.

"I need to speak with you," Jack answered in his usual straight-to-the-point accuracy.

"Oh, ok then, come in," Peter drew back to let his guest enter with an expression of apprehensive curiosity. "Mum is off to work, so we're alone for now. What's all this about? You're starting to worry me here man."

Seeking for the right way to formulate his inquiries, Jack pensively sat on the arm of old-leathered seat. Usually, he was content enough to stay in the background and let the others do the talking. Obviously it wasn't an option here.

"Are you a wizard?"

At the bold question, Peter almost jumped in surprise, his eyes wide like a rabbit in front of a car. And then his shoulders slouched and he busted out laughing hysterically. Jack was that close to worry he made a terrible mistake. Or that he just broke his best friend.

"How...how did you know?" Peter wiped out tears of laugh with a both amazed and apprehensive face.

True. All true. Jack had known since that magical lady, the  _witch_ , had visited them to prove the existence of magic. Standard protocol for  _muggleborns_ , Professor McGonagall as she presented, herself said.

But to have this madness confirmed by his trusted life-long friend...it felt like becoming actually  _real_ , oddly more so than when some strangers made teacups fly in front of his very eyes.

"Dirk received his Howarts letter. Two weeks ago," Jack replied laconically, as if his world view hadn't just been shaken to his core. Again. His best friend could make tea cups fly. His best friend was in school where he learned how to make tea cups fly, the same one where his own little brother would go to next year. His best friend could probably do much more impressive stuff then making tea cups fly.

Holy  _shit_.

"Hogwarts," Peter corrected without thinking. "Dirk, eleven already? He barely reaches my shoulder."

The Cresswell older boy stared at Peter with sarcastic contempt. "Really? That's all you have to say?"

Peter smiled sheepishly. "I'm...I'm a bit shocked actually. Didn't expected that, you know. But, really, I'm sorry I had to lie to you guys. There are laws about that and everything, believe me. And I'm kinda relieved you at least know about magic."

Jack let out an amused bark despite himself. "You don't really think we can manage to hide something this big from  _Lucas_  for years? Dude, have you met the guy? He's the nosiest ever."

"You have a point."

"I give you like, three years tops."

Peter gratified that remark with a snort. "Geez, thanks for the vote of confidence. Did I not put enough emphasis on the  _illegal_  part?"

They fell into an awkward silence, with each party trying to let the other time to assimilate everything, before Jack broke it with the actual reason of his visit. "This...school is very far from here. And I won't be able to visit, apparently. Would you...watch out for Dirk for me?"

"Of course Jack. We're family," Peter smiled genuinely with a familiar decisive glint in his blue eyes.

.

.

II. Something Gentle

.

.

For the first time, Bellatrix Black regretted not being a student at Hogwarts anymore.

The irony, if nothing else, wasn't lost on her. Indeed, the elder Black girl had spent half her scholarity protesting against the presence of mudblood and other impurities among real wizards and witches and the other half trying her best to put said impurities to their place, a tiring and thankless mission if there ever was.

Really, Bellatrix had lost count of all the times she had seriously considered sending Black tradition to hell and just transferring to Durmstrang in order to get some  _real_  magic education. Needless to say, her graduation day had been a happy one, where she could finally get her actual life to start, and she had never missed Hogwarts and its corrupted walls.

Until now, that was it.

"Cissy," she smiled sweetly as she cornered the Slytherin prefect for some sister-to-sister long-needed talk. "I've heard the  _oddest_  things about little Susie's adventures at school. Could you venture a guess?"

Narcissa froze on the spot, silent, her eyes widening with surprise and, dare she says it, fear. A part of Bellatrix saddened to note her own sister's wariness. The rest of her just relinquished to the thrill.

Honestly, did Bellatrix have to do  _everything_  by herself? Andromeda's passivity, she could understand, since the Ravenclaw always had been way too lax on the youngest member of their family. She would have thought however that Narcissa could handle one eleven year-old and stop her from shaming the family name, like their disgusting cousin did, but noooo.

If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself. And all the things Bellatrix had to endure for the Blacks, really.

"No? Well let me enlighten you, dearest sister," the eldest Black kept her saccharine smile despite her inner fury. "Acting  _friendly_  with mudbloods and blood traitors, eating with  _Hufflepuffs_  and  _Gryffindors_...And you did  _nothing!_ "

"I  _tried_  to talk her out of it!" Cissy protested, ugly patches of red flourishing on her pale cheeks. "She just won't listen to reason anymore."

Oh sweet Merlin, why was Bellatrix surrounded by such  _morons_? And here she had thought Cissy to be the only redeemable one. Did the name Slytherin truly meant nothing anymore? "Well, you just have to be more  _persuasive_ , Cissy! Because if you don't, Mother, Father and I will! No one will tolerate another blood traitor here!"

Her sister shook her head. "Susan's just eleven, she doesn't know what she's doing! Bella, you can't..."

"Oh, but I do know what I'm doing, and you know it," a young voice interrupted the Slytherin's tirade.

The two Black sisters turned towards the door of Cissy's room where the object of their conversation casually stood. Susan, already dressed in her white nightgown, serenely faced her older sister's angry snarl. And Bellatrix could hardly recognize that unassumingly confident young lady as her shy and reserved sister.

"My, Susie, have you grown a backbone yet?"

From Bellatrix's side, Cissy sent a discreet warning glance at their younger sibling, who seemingly chose to ignore it.

"Hardly," Susan smiled pleasantly, playing oblivious to the growing tension in the room. "But if you have complaints to make regarding my behavior, I'm the one you should address them to, Bella. After all, Cissy is not responsible for my actions."

Bellatrix could have died laughing at the irony. She had spent so many years complaining of her sister's weakness, of her fragility, her shyness, her lack of Black pride and confidence. And now Susan was blooming out of her shell, as the elder pureblood had hoped for, except she grew exactly in the wrong direction.

"How dare you?" the witch hissed at the serene brunette, under Cissy's panicked stare. "How dare you dishonor our blood, our family and everything we ever stand for?"

She wasn't sure what she expected from Susan exactly. Fear, certainly, anger at least, remorse at best. But not for her tiny sister to stand her ground quietly, as if she knew she was not the one in the wrong. Gone was the girl who screamed for one tiny Boggart, gone was the brat indulging Sirius' mad schemes without getting involved, gone was the child who asked her big sister to chase away the monsters hiding under her bed.

"Werewolves, Bella, I swear!" the pretty little girl came crying at nights. "They are waiting, hiding, to come eat me!"

Susie used to watch her big sister with endless admiration at the time, back when she was barely above a crying squirt. Now Susan stared at her with contempt and  _pity_. And Bellatrix couldn't stand it.

"What you stand for and what I stand for are different things, Bella."

She looked so calm, little traitorous Susikins, as if she wasn't destroying their family and burning centuries of tradition to the ground. Bellatrix didn't even realize she had moved until she held the little shit by the collar of her white nightgown.

Susan hadn't even blinked at the aggression, patiently waiting for her older sister's reaction.

"You listen to me carefully, Susan Oriana Black," Bellatrix's furious face hovered a few inches above Susan's. "Because you are of my blood, and still young and foolish, I'm giving you one chance,  _one_ , to end this nonsense. Promise to stop your shameful behavior and we'll forget this folly even happened."

Without missing a beat, she pushed away Cissy, who had thrown herself towards them with uncharacteristic distress. The ever composed Ice Queen, incoherently begging for them to 'stop fighting already.' People outside the small circle of sisters would be so shocked.

"But make no mistake,  _sister_ ," Bellatrix threatened, her dark eyes narrowing with loathing. "Should you persist, I'll not hesitate. I'll cast you aside like the  _filth_  you chose over us. And one day I'll  _kill_  you. No sister of mine will ever be a  _blood traitor_ , you hear me!"

For half a second, the pureblood witch thought her threats had worked. That everything would turn back to normal. That the brief glimpse she caught flickering inside her sister's eyes betrayed fear, recognition, respect.

Then Susan firmly took Bellatrix away for her neck, freed herself from the witch's frantic grip and looked her right in the eyes. "You have been no sister of mine since you hid that Boggart into my room, Bellatrix. I just didn't realize it before."

In retrospect, that must have been the moment Bellatrix completely lost it.

.

.

III. Something Just

.

.

There had to be people somewhere in this world Petunia Evans would have hated more to be found cheerfully ringing at her door on a Sunday morning than  _Edmund Snape_. People like Adolf Hitler, or that dreadful Grace Hawkins from her class.

But no. Even after franticly thinking about all those terrible possibilities, Edmund Snape still made it to the 'Fucking Worst' in Petunia's personal book. Knowing him like she did, so much more than she would like to, the weirdo would be flattered.

"Hi Pet!" he dared to grin at her like he was genuinely happy to see her. And that nickname. How enthusiastically Petunia hated that nickname. "How is it going?"

"Awfully," the oldest Evans daughter replied truthfully, because even if the weirdo had had the common sense to _not_  come bother her on her beloved Sunday mornings, when she was wearing her pajamas with her hair realizing acrobatics until then unknown to the capillary world _, it would still have been awful._  Edmund Snape just had that talent, he made her life awful just by  _existing_. The fact that he also talked didn't help.

The plague of her life rose from the wall he had been casually leaning against and ogled her with an amused smirk. So Petunia liked to spend her Sundays in her pajamas lazing around, blissfully not forcing herself to rise and shine at six in the morning to prepare herself,  _so sue her._

Before Weirdo could make any comment on her current attire, she stopped him with a cutting "Lily is not here," and then proceeded to slam the door in his ugly, smug face, as in accordance with Petunia's 'minimal interaction with Snapes' Program. It felt good.

Edmund had either not heard of the Program, or had chosen to ignore it as he slipped a foot between the door and the wall. Couldn't he get the damn  _message_  already? "Great, I'm not looking for Lily. Come on Pet, let me in."

Sometimes people found themselves at a crossroads in their life, required to make a choice. Petunia could either let Snape into her home, or she could  _crush his fucking foot_. Decisions, decisions. As the only rational mind of this crazy house, Petunia took a moment to weight the respective consequences of her actions.

Con: Neighbor rumors. Parents and freak sister upset. If she hit hard enough, getting parts of Edmund Snape on her floor. Hospital bills. Possibly police and paperwork.

Pro: Hitting Edmund Snape. Possibly seeing Edmund Snape cry. Maybe getting him to take the hint already.

 _So. Worth. It._  she concluded as Weirdo's smirk grew wilder, like he could see what she was thinking and found her current struggle  _hilarious._  That was it. Petunia didn't mind upgrading her until then virginal criminal record if she could get to erase that damn smirk off his face.

Unfortunately, Petunia was spared the trouble as her very own mother called out to her, fishing for intel at the worst possible moment. "Tuney! Who is it darling?"

She sighed and cast a warning glare at her most annoying neighbor. Predictably, he ignored her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Evans!" he called out above her shoulder, going so far as to  _wink_  at her. The gall of that boy. She changed her mind. Damn the foot, she was so going to rip his eyeballs out one blissful day.

"Edmund!" her traitorous mother replied with equal cheerfulness as she rushed to the front door. "Sweetie, it's been so long since we last saw you!"

Not long enough, according to Petunia, but nobody cared about what Petunia thought in this family anyway. She sighed as she let the door open. Curse her life.

Edmund took a victorious step in before gratifying his reluctant host of a bittersweet "my, thanks Pet". Forget the foot or the eyeball, she would content herself with a tongue. Just a tongue, and she would go to jail a content woman. Teen. Whatever.

"Too long indeed Ma'am," Weirdo concurred as Donna Evans greeted him with a brief hug. Petunia bravely resisted the urge to puke in the background. She deserved  _medals_ , not a crappy sister, blind fools for parents and freaky neighbors who kept on invading her weirdo-free vital space.

Yes indeed, Petunia Evans deserved  _bette_ r. Unfortunately, the rest of the world disagreed.

"Come in, come in," her mother destroyed all her daughter's hard work without second thoughts as she led Snape into the kitchen with truly revolting fussing over him. Ugh.

Well then. Time to be anywhere else. Mother dearest did not agree. "Petunia," she called her with a warning tone as her daughter took steps towards the stairs.

"I'm in my pajamas, mom," Petunia tried to appeal to the better part of her parent, as she faked embarrassment. Truth to be told, she couldn't care less. Would have it been anyone else, especially people from her school, she might have been mortified to be seen in a state other than pristine, but she didn't gave a flying fuck about  _his_  opinion. Besides, he had seen worse.

"I've seen worse," Edmund confirmed, as if he could see her thoughts clear as day. She hated when he did that. Perhaps he really did read her thoughts, who could know with Freaks?

Her mother giggled the reminder, as she likely recalled fondly at times where her children and the Snape twins came home from their escapades with varying states of dirtiness, and one single time practically naked.

Petunia vigorously refrained from recalling memories of a time where she still played with her sister and called Ed her friend. Severus she could never get along with, but they agreed to mutually tolerate each other. That was before she understood the three of them belonged to the highly selective club of Freaks, and Petunia didn't. She, however belonged to the 'Uglier and Stupidier and Not Extraordinary At All' Club.

It didn't matter. Petunia Evans was not bitter,  _at all_. She wasn't. She was just fine being the painfully normal ugly sister with few real friends. Who wanted to be a freak anyway? Not Petunia.

"Actually I came to talk to Pet," Weirdo smiled at her mother as he  _outright lied_. Because Edmund Snape had nothing,  _absolutely nothing_ to say to her, or her to him. "But I'm glad we could catch up Mrs. Evans."

Predictably, her mother ate up all his deceptive words. She always had an unexplainable fondness for the Snape twins. "Oh! Well, I have lunch to prepare, I will leave the two of you to it then! Will you be staying for lunch Edmund dear?"

Edmund dear skipped a glance to Petunia's narrowing eyes, and for once in his life decided not to push his luck. "That would have been my pleasure but mom will be waiting on me. Another time perhaps?"

"Of course!" her mother finally took off to the kitchen. Petunia shook as she heard her enthusiastic parent giggle. Dear lord, she was probably planning their  _wedding_  already. Her family was  _awful_ , just awful.

"What do you think you're doing?" the oldest Evans girl hissed as soon as she deemed her mother far enough away. "I have nothing to say to you!"

Edmund shrugged as he helped himself up the stairs, and towards her room. "Well I do."

Petunia threw herself at her door to stop him from intruding upon her sanctuary. Like hell she was letting him rub his disgusting paws over her things. "Get the fuck out."

Unimpressed by the swearing, her personal plague had the nerve to roll his eyes at her. "Nice. Do you really want to have this conversation in corridor?"

"No," the thirteen years old quickly replied. "Because we are not having a conversation  _at all_. Ever. And even if we were, boys are not supposed to go in girls' room. It's not proper."

"I'm eleven, the propriety rule doesn't apply to pre-teens. And if it did, I wouldn't care."

"I do. But mostly I just don't want you touching my things."

"I promise not to touch your things. Scout's parole."

"You're not a scout. And you're still not going inside my room."

"Okay then. But I can still have a conversation with your mom, right? I guess I could tell her about that time you..."

She let him in. That damned manipulator. The Fucking Worst.

"One day it's not going to work anymore," Petunia mumbled angrily, as he took a curious look around her room.

He shrugged, before snorting at her cheap vanity. "Sure, but today's not that day. Seriously Pet, do you need that much makeup?"

Yes. She did. Not everyone could claim to have perfect skin like Lily. She couldn't wait to see the puberty train wreck finally hit that one. "Say what you have to say and get lost."

He actually laughed at that. "Rude. And to say everyone thinks you're the well behaved one."

Well she didn't have much leeway there. She couldn't be the pretty one, nor the smart one or the funny one. Even less the  _magical_  one. But she could be the proper one. Cheers. Lily always sucked at normality, therefore Petunia would reveal in mundanity even if it killed her.

"Fine, fine, if you want to get down to business right away," he finally stopped grinning to stare at her with steel-hard blue eyes. Petunia knew that face. The I'm-being-very-serious-right-now face. Petunia hated that face. Granted, she hated all his faces, but she held a particular loathing for that one.

"You haven't been writing to Lily."

Petunia blinked. Just. What. "I beg your pardon."

"You haven't been writing to Lily," Edmund repeated, frowning as he used to when seeing something that didn't fit his worldview of justice. "She wrote to you like, every month, and you haven't replied to her letters, not once. Why?"

Eyes wide with disbelief, she gritted her teeth. Had Lily asked him to talk to her? No, she wouldn't, she and Lily spent all their time together bitching at each other nowadays, but they had rules. Not involving family outsiders was definitely one of them, and the Snape twins, no matter what her mother wanted to believe  _did not belong to her family_.

"I guessed," he added when Petunia failed to reply. "She is always so disappointed when the owl comes back with your parents' letter and nothing from you."

Petunia nipped her guilt in the bud. She had tried to reply, alright. She had written back dozen of letters she never had be able to send. It wasn't like Petunia had tons to talk about. No magical classes she aced, but boring ones where she did alright, neither a dunce nor a genius, just  _in the norm._  No a billion friends from all houses to gush over, just girls to stay with at school that spent most of their time talking about boys and stabbing each other in the back. No professors who could turn into cats, just teachers who never remembered her name. Petunia did not eat in the giant hall where food appeared from nowhere, she ate boring salad and vegetables because she was watching out for her figure. Petunia couldn't bitch about 'that reckless game they call Quidditch' because she had never seen a Quidditch game ever in her life.

Petunia was not happy, Petunia was not even okay, and all her letters ended up bitter and resentful. So she tore them apart, and kept Lily's letters in her drawer, where she would reread them again and again.

"That's. None of your business," she painfully hissed at him, almost rendered mute with fury and shame. How dare he?  _How fucking dare he?_

"It is actually. Lily is my friend. Hell, you're my friend, whether you like or not."

She could have died laughing here and now. How like him to impose his friendship on innocent bystanders who wanted nothing to do with it. She chose to growl instead. He always had that talent to call out on her worst instincts.

"Get. Out."

"No. Fuck Pet, if you want to shut me out, fine, but Lily's your family and she loves you. Stop being so stupid and get your act together, family is  _important._  You can't..."

"Don't call me Pet! And get out!" she cried out desperately. Out of her room, out of her house, out of her life, out of her head.  _OutOutOut._

To her everlasting shame, tears began to gather at corner of her eyes. She prayed to every deity who might hear not to let him see her  _cry_.

He saw. "Pe...don't cry, I didn't mean to..." Ed fumbled as he drew closer, his self-righteous anger crumbling with guilt.

Petunia took two steps back. Almost fell on her bed. Glorious day. "Don't. Touch. Me."

His eyes glinted with hurt. Fuck him. He could hurt all he wanted for al she cared. "Okay, fine, I'm leaving. Please just...think about it."

She thought about it. She thought about it all the fucking time already. What more could he possibly want from her?

_What could he possibly know about not being good enough for his family anyway?_

.

.

IV. Something Valiant

.

.

Molly Weasley would like to say she hadn't seen it coming but that would be a lie. After all, she knew her brothers by heart, maybe even better than they knew themselves.

So going back to her family's house for Christmas only to find Gideon halfway buried under mission reports and so concentrated on his work he hadn't even heard her coming when she was carrying on her hip  _a very excited toddler_  should not surprise her. And it didn't.

Just to be clear, Gideon's absolute dedication to the work he considered important, whether it happened to be DADA essays, mission reports, the plan of their latest prank, or the blueprint of a trebuchet made with two bras, was one of the qualities she admired best about her brother. That same quality just happened to make her job of taking care of her family much, much more difficult, for it led Gid to forget petty details like  _eating_  or  _sleeping_  if he was left to his own advices in the middle of a project.

"Honestly Gideon," the eldest Prewett sibling scolded in guise of greeting as she made her casserole fly to the kitchen and Bill made a heartfelt but hopeless attempt to steal her wand. Again. "It's  _Christmas._ "

Her brother finally took notice of their presence, as he raised his head from his mountain of paperwork with the air of a man that had forgotten his own name. What were they teaching their students at that Auror training? Molly could have killed him three times already a toddler at her hip without breaking a sweat.

"Molly? You're early?"

"No I am not," she said with the patience acquired after several years of handling  _boys._  "And you're working on  _Christmas._ "

He blank. "It's not Christmas yet. I'm pretty sure it's three days before Christmas."

"Congratulation, I'm so proud of you darling," Molly smiled sweetly, as Fabian finally deigned to barge in to salute his sister and nephew.

The eldest Prewett restrained a hysterical laugh at the sigh the two of them made. They both wore the truly hideous Christmas sweaters she had offered them years ago, two of her most ridiculous first attempts at knitting. Dear Merlin, these boys. Did Gideon really think his giant glasses managed to hide his equally enormous eye bags? Because it didn't, just as Molly knew perfectly well what Fabian was trying to conceal from her eyes with his bright yellow scarf.

Please, Molly had perfected technics to hide bite marks  _way_ before they knew what a bite mark was.

"Mols," Fabian greeted cheerfully, before kissing her cheek and promptly taking Bill from her arm. "And my favorite nephew!"

Bill giggled happily at the attention and offered a close-enough approximation of Fabian's name that send his uncle into hysterics.

"Fabian," Molly managed her most scolding voice despite the cute sight. "Why were you letting your brother work on Christmas day?"

They both ignored Gideon's halfhearted protestations as Fabian tucked his nephew on one arm and held his other hand above his heart with a deeply wounded expression that didn't fool Molly for a second. "Big Sis!  _My brother_ , as you said, is a very important member of the  _Ministry!_  An  _indispensable_  protector of The Law, and I'm just a low-class citizen! What was I supposed to do, hide his paperwork, steal his coffee, and enchant his glasses to scream at him to go to sleep?"

"Actually you did all that," Gideon helpfully intervened. "But please do go on as if I wasn't here."

"He's a  _trainee_ ," Molly did exactly that. "He didn't even hear us coming, and one of us is an excited baby!"

Gideon paled as Fabian laughed mockingly, Bill giggling in echo. "Oh  _really_  Gigi? What would your boss say, hmm? CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Fabian hit his fist on the table for emphasis with a fearsome expression somewhat ruined by his squinting eyes, the epitome of humor according to her son's hysterical laugher.

"Bibi, don't mock Moody,  _he'll know_ ," his brother whined before finally raising from his seat and deigning to kiss her cheek in greeting. "Sorry Mols. Things are a bit tense at the Auror office lately."

"Yeah, Dark Lords in the open tend to do that," Fabian deadpanned before pinching his nephew cheek and adding with truly nauseating voice. "Ain't that right Billikins?"

Molly froze and stared at Gideon. "Dear Merlin, you're not assigned on that case, are you?"

She had heard of that new  _Dark Lord_  alright. Arthur did work at the Ministry, if in an insignificant post, and he had plenty of friends there. For now, mostly rumors, but they had hinted truly frightening things. Things like 'an ever growing army of followers', 'planning to overthrow the Ministry' and 'the new Grindlewald'.

Europe and Britain had had enough of one Grindlewald, thank-you-very-much.

"No, of course not," Gideon shook his head while his brother snorted unhelpfully. "But Moody is, I'm just...lending a hand."

"Well, keep on helping him from afar," Molly said, before reminding herself of the Not Talking About Dark Wizards At Christmas Rule. "Where is Lucy by the way? At Longbottom Manor again?"

The twins shared a  _look_. Couldn't meant anything good, from Molly's experience.

"Err, no, she's off to Diagon Alley with Dad," Gideon eventually answered. "We expected you later."

"I said three in the afternoon to Dad, and it's three and a half in the afternoon," the redhead sighed, before narrowing her eyes at her uncomfortable looking brothers. "Alright, what is it?"

Another look. Molly  _hated_  when they did that. This time Fabian devoted himself to speak for the both of them. "She...hasn't been to Frank's since she came back."

"Oh," she said. "Well I guess they see each other at school all the time now."

"We think," Gideon carefully said. "that they had a sort of...fight."

Molly laughed by reflex. Then stared at her brothers with a confused smile. "What, seriously?  _Lucy and Frank? Having a fight?"_

Preposterous. The two cousins were practically as close as the twins, except they didn't spend their time either conspiring with each other or bickering endlessly.  _They never fought_.

"Lucy didn't said anything, you know how she is," Fabian added, which was frankly rich coming from mister keeping-my-man-pain-inside. "But she's been a bit down since she came back, as much as Lu can be down."

Gideon nodded helplessly, staring at Molly as if she could solve all their problems. As if Big Sister came with a secret equipment to fix younger siblings. Spoiler, she didn't. Especially for Lucy, who had been pretty much self-maintaining from infancy.

"Maybe it's something else," Molly tried, because she had trouble thinking of a world where Lucy and Frank weren't perpetually in each other's pocket.

At the suggestion, Fabian grumbled under Gideon's half amused half exasperated glance. "I bet it's  _that boy_."

Both Molly and Gideon rolled their eyes at the ridiculous idea overprotective-brother Fabian had kept since September. "You mean that eleven-year old kid you never met and Lucy had never spoken of?  _That boy?_ "

"There's something fishy, I'm telling you."

"And I'm telling you, you're a paranoid bastard."

Molly shrugged. "I'll talk to her. And we'll see at Christmas dinner if she and Frank are truly fighting anyway."

.

.

Prewett House, December 1971,

_Dear Peter,_

_Can you guess how strange I feel writing to you after so long? I can scarcely believe it's the first letter to any of you I have written for years, when we spent so much time corresponding with each other. After a while I even managed to differentiate your r from your n like a pro (you have awful penmanship, don't even try to deny it.)_

_Dear Peter, dear Ed, dear Su. Feels really, really good._

_You do know I love Christmas, right? It's like, my favorite holiday ever. Family reunion, plenty of food and gifts, and epic snow battles, what's not to like? Thanks again about that flute by the way, it was absolutely lovely of you._

_How did your Christmas go, my dear Peter? Did your mum like that perfume we got her? I'm sure she did, Su has very reliable tastes about these things. Oh, and did you see those two buddies of yours? I sincerely hope to meet them one day, they do seem positively delightful!_

_Unfortunately I had the worst Christmas of my whole life. Even worse than that first Christmas in N. Yes, that bad, and you know I'm not the type to dramatize (alright, maybe I am a little.) And why did your Christmas go so bad, Lucy, you would ask? Actually you wouldn't, because I'm sure you already know._

_I couldn't even look him in the eyes, Peter. He's been my best friend for years now and I couldn't even look at him in the eyes. And everyone knew. I ruined everyone's Christmas. I am an awful person._

_I know I said I would fix this, but what am I supposed to say? 'Sorry Frank, don't know what came over me. No of course I don't know these three guys I'm so unexpectedly chummy with, I mean, where could I have met them, right?'_

_He's not an idiot. He knows something's wrong with me. He knew long before we went to Hogwarts._

_I can't keep on lying to him like that. I just can't. Once we get back to Hogwarts, I will tell him everything._

_Yes, I know, I can't make this decision on my own. I'll tell the others, and then I'll tell him. I won't let myself be convinced otherwise this time Peter, not even by Su or Ed or you. This is way too important for me, and I went too far already anyway. I am the Valiant Queen, for Aslan's sake. In the meantime, I promise not to do anything rash (I'm not you, mister hothead. You know it's the entire truth, I've seen you in battle.)_

_Wow, I do feel better now. Thank you, fictional Peter. I needed the vent._

_That being said, I wish a very happy Christmas (again) to you and your mum, and will be seeing you guys soon enough at King's Cross._

_With my most sincere affection,_

_Lucy_

 


	9. Confrontations and confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, WE'RE ENTERING UNBETAED TERRITORIES.  
> So I did my best, but yeah. Expect typos and other grammatical horrors.

_The worst thing about this reincarnated situation is no be stuck into the body of child again, nor to have lost my throne, my country and my god. No, the worst thing is to be an only child. I have spent more than thirty years as an older brother. The loss of a hoard of unruly brats to worry about has left me with a raw wound, throbbing and unforgettable. A fanthom member, so to speak._

_I would happily give up a leg for the pleasure to yell at Ed for being a stubborn idiot again, to panic at the rare sight of Lucy's tears or to argue endlessly with Susan. They are stupid, foolish, magnificent brats, but they are mine and I miss them more deeply than I do Narnia._

_I do love more my mother, my new mother I mean, don't get me wrong. She's quite the remarkable woman, even though she never sees so herself. The waste of air that calls himself my father is not worth mentionning, but Mum deserves all the praise for taking care of me. She knows something is wrong with me, and blames herself for messing me up or some nonsense of the sort._

_It's not her fault I was reborn with three quarters of my heart missing._

.

.

Something Magnificent

.

.

"Dammit Lupin," Sirius, ever the tactless prat greeted them as he marched into their compartiment with the confidence of a Telmarine King. "Are they not feeding you or something? You look awful."

Remus turned bright red and shrank on his seat with embarrassment, while Peter frowned unhappily at the Black's casual rudeness. "Not as much as you do, Black. Are they not teaching you manners or something?"

To be entirely fair, Remus  _did_ look terribly exhausted today. Sicky even. Not for the first time, unfortunately, which, needless to say, worried Peter enough on its own. No child should look like they had to carry the entire world on their shoulders, and yes, he had noticed the irony of that remark coming from him.

However, regardless of the truth of the statement, it didn't meant Sirius could just go ahead and charge into Remus' mountain of insecurities like a enraged bull.

From a purely intellectual point of view, Peter was more than aware than arguing with eleven-years old brats would bring very little for him and for them. 'Boys will be boys', or so Sue would say, and Peter couldn't in all honesty disagree with that wisdom, especially taking into consideration how Ed and him had been when they were  _actual_ eleven years old.

However, his rational side tended to be overcome rather quickly by his emotional one when confronted to his friend's ashamed uncomfort. Call him overprotective, but Peter had never been able to stand aside and stay objective when it came to his family and friends.

Black hardly seemed affected by the rebutal though, so no harm no foul.

"I'll have you know I was raised under the most tradionnal education of the Ancien and Noble House of Black," he sneered with the incredibly accurate air of an hauthy aristocrat. "It's not a Mud...muggleborn that's going to teach me manners."

Personally, Peter cared little for the derogative name short-minded prigs gave people like him, but apparently, Remus did. More than he did about  _his_  own embarrassment.

"Excuse me," his usually pathologically shy friend stood up on his seat with mighty indignation, and stared straight at Sirius without stuttering once. "But where  _I_  come from using  _that_  word definitly does  _not_  count as good manners."

Still unaffected, Sirius only grinned and barked with delight at Remus' acidic retort at the exact same time James barged in, Pete on his tail. "Oww, look at that Jamesie,  _it bites_. Who knew?"

"Sweet Merlin, Sirius," James rolled on his eyes as he dramatically let himself fall on the seat next to Peter. "We leave you on your own like,  _three second_ , and you still managed to wake the beast within Lupin."

"What can I say, it's a talent," Black threw his arm around Remus's frail shoulders, and Peter had to fought the urge to forcefully remove the intrusive limb at his friend's visible discomfort.

"Because that's clearly Remus who's the beast," the former king grumbled instead, to James' et Pete's amusement. At least some of them could enjoy themselves. Peter lived to serve.

"You're such a mother hen," Sue's cousin eventually released Remus from his clutches.

Peter didn't even bother denying. "And you're a brat."

The thing was, Peter had a certain sympathy for Sirius Black. Despite his upbringing, the bloke had turned out somewhat decent, in a slightly insensitive kind of way. He had come to understand from Sue's rather evasive explanations that Sirius hadn't been raised in a house that nutured generosity and open-mindness. Although he could have guessed that without his sister's imput, for behind his devil-may-care attitude and open disregard for authority, the boy reeked of naked hurt and distrust.

It reminded Peter of pre-Narnia Edmund, as sensible as a open wound, ready to lash out at the slightest offense. He wasn't sure exactly how he felt about the comparison.

"Children, stop fighting already. You upset Petey," James scolded them, in a remarkable display of hypocrisy, before bursting out in laughter, unable to believe in his own performance as a figure of authority.

Pettigrew, far from looking upset smiled uncertainly. "I can't believe  _you_  just said that, James!" and how Peter agreed with him.

"I know!" James and Sirius smirked at the same time, before collapsing with hilarity.

Peter shared an amused glance with Remus, their usual 'did anyone put something in their pumpkin juice or what'.

Dear Aslan, had he been so young, so carefree, once? He sure couldn't remember. There had been war of course, and the loss of his father and the wound that separation had inflicted on his family, and then the weight of an entire country to rebuilt. Peter was no stranger to the concept of responsibility, and he had never run from his duty, but surely there had to be  _something_  before?

Fortunately, he was spared further introspection as the door of their compartiment opened to let a familiar blond head in. "Excuse me, I'm looking for...oh!"

Lucy stared straight at Peter, and he tensed at her unwavering intensity. She looked, well, not her usual radiant self, but better than she did when they had left the castle for the winter holidays, right after the Frank Debacle.

She looked _determined_ , and that usually meant trouble for Peter. In a way, the Valiant Queen only had one major weakness: uncertainty. As long as Lucy had convinced herself of her own rightfulness, she would be as good as unstopable. Which meant his own chances to talk out of her disastrous plan had drastically diminished. Aslan knew those odds hadn't been outstanding in the first place.

"Hi," his sister smiled hesitantly, and he smiled back, unable to stop himself despite his own uneasiness.

"Hi."

"Why, hello to you too Prewett," Sirius practically driped out sarcasm. "Do you want us to leave the room so you can keep having a  _moment_  with Andrews here?"

If Black thought making gross insinuations about his relationship to Lucy would embarrass her, he clearly had another thing coming. "Oh really, you would?" she gratified the Gryffindor with a full powered beam. "That would be great, thanks!"

At their friend's rare moment of discomfiture, Pete snickered as James laughed outright at his best friend's gasp of incredulity. Peter bet at least the Potter heir was having the time of his life. "Damn, she got you soooo bad! You're losing your touch, mate!"

"Oh fuck off," Sirius grumbled, which only earned him another 'ruuuude!' from his so called best friend.

Lucy, the malicious pixie, smiled beatifically with little remorse. "I was just kidding! Please forgive me for my rudeness, and happy New Year to everyone!"

Remus smiled kindly in return, while Pete blushed to the very roots of his blond hair, clearly ill used to Lucy's cheerful attacks. Speaking of, Peter wasn't sure the three pranksters had been formerly introduced to the youngest Prewett before. Their problem, not Peter's.

"Now I'm going to borrow Peter if you lads don't mind," Lucy didn't bother waiting for an answer as she grasped his forearm and rose him from his seat before proceeding to drag him out of the compartiment. Peter only had time to hear Sirius's "No funny buisness with my innocent daughter, Prewett!" and James's dramatic cries of "my eyes, my eyes!" before she closed the door to their faces. Seriously, just how ridiculously insufferable could those boys get?

"Did you have to do that?" Peter whined to his youngest sister as she decidly kept on dragging him through the train corridor. "You know what they are going to assume, right?"

Lucy only deigned to gratified his concerns by a condescending snort. "Oh Peter, haven't you heard already? I'm fiancée to Frank, and having an affair with Ed. I'm afraid you're only my lastest adventure."

He froze in the middle of the corridor, highly disturbed, his world-view shaking on its pillars. "That's...ugh, I would have preffered not knowing that. Who said such a thing?"

Unbothered, the blond Hufflepuff vaguely shook her hand in the air before slipping her arm beneath his. "Well, you know, _people_. With too much time, and an overactive imagination."

"Mean people," Peter added, frowning. He had not known that. Just like he hadn't known about Ed's bullying issues with his whole house. He really, _really_  didn't like not knowing about that stuff.

"Hardly. You're making a mountain out of nothing again, Peter," she rolled her eyes at him with an amused grin. "I don't mind. I only wish I had a love life that thrilling. Too bad they keep on imaging my lovers from boys I'm closely related with. I'm not likely to get some action anytime soon!"

Peter was not a puritan, okay. He was not, and his sister, theorically, had long earned her status as a fully grown and mature woman, although stuck on a eleven year old body for the time being. That being said, he could have done without any notion of his little sister getting 'some action' of any kind at any time. Just...no. Nope. Not happening. "Please...stop talking."

"Ed's right after all!" the blond vixen giggled at his expense. "You  _are_  a prude! Look at me, I can even say it! Sex, sex, se..!"

At that point Peter had to silence her with his hand on her filthy, filthy mouth for the sake of his own sanity, because they were things no brothers were supposed to hear. Ever.

Which would be the moment a older Ravenclaw chose to leave his compartiment, and stared at the first-years pair in a compromizing position with the most judging eyes Peter had ever been subjected to. And he had lived with Susan for many, many years. He released his sister from his hold while smiling awkwardly. Not his finest moment, admittedly. Lucy put an end to his suffering when she ushered him inside the empty compartiment she had been looking for.

"Honestly Peter," she sighed, slightly exasperated now. "How old are you again?"

"Depends on the point of view I guess," Peter retorted. "But not old enough to listen to my sister talk about.."

"That wouldn't have bothered you if  _Ed_  had said it, and you know it."

"That's not..." He protested before stopping mild sentence. It probably would have bothered him alright, just...less. "That's not fair."

"I quite agree," Lucy laughed with a spike of bitterness, before sitting next to the window. "I'm sorry, it's not what I wanted to talk about anyway."

"Frank I guess," he sat in front of her, unsure of what she expected of him.

She humed in answer, staring at the window. "What am I supposed to do with him?"

"I thought you had decided that already," Peter said dryly. The letter she had sent him at Christmas had seemed quite clear on the matter.

"Now who's not being fair," Lucy chuckled weakly, all her usual energy drained with uncertainty. "Do you really think I'm wrong?"

Quite aware of the importance of his answer, the former King took the time to formulate his words carefully. "I think that  _if_ you're wrong, there could be grave consequences, for all of us. And even if you're not... Lucy, have you considered the fact you might put him in danger? If we're really here for a precise reason..."

"Then anyone involved with us will be danger anyway! Better to know why and be prepared for it!"

Maybe. Maybe not. Peter didn't know. It wasn't like he could read Aslan's mind, for fuck's sake. In a way, Susan had been right, it would have been nice to get a memo about what the hell they were here for.

But they didn't, and so they should keep on trying their best as they could. Together. "Lucy, you need to talk about this with Susan and Edmund."

"I know. And I will. But they're going to be furious with me, aren't they? Especially Susan."

"Probably," Peter admitted, because, well, yes. "You should prepare yourself for the scolding of your life."

"Which one?" Lucy grinned unapologically, and really, that shouldn't have been half as funny as it was.

.

.

Something Just

.

.

Fact one: Dorcas Meadows and Susan Black, despite being in the same year at Hogwart had never spoken a word to each other.

Fact two: Dorcas Meadows and Susan Black were, as a matter of fact, rectifying that terrible mistake right now, and had been since Edmund had introduced the two of them not twenty minutes ago.

Fact three: Dorcas Meadows and Susan Black should have never spoken to each other, and Edmund was a idiot. Possibly. Very probably.

"He's the worst, the absolutly worst," Dorcas complained loudly to a comprehensive Susan nodded along in understanding. "I mean, who would put mandrake root in a  _highly sensitive preparation_  right? Why do I have to watch him  _all the time?_ "

"Why indeed," his beloved older sister very seriously patted his potion partner's arm, sparing a amused glance at Ed's _completly understandable_  mistake. Those roots all looked like each other honestly. His brother deigned to stop his fake-reading to gratify Edmund with a unimpressed glare that clearly meant 'How are we even related. How.' Traitors, the whole lot of them.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, miss Meadowes," Susan finally destroyed every chance for Edmund to get his reputation back with a serene smile. "You should think of this hardship as a strenghtening challenge. If you can survive surpervising Ed on a lab, you can handle whatever life would put in your way."

Ed held back a growl of frustration as Dorcas barked a laugh at his expense. On the plus side, he doubted he had ever seen the outcast Slytherin so open before, especially to a stranger. But that was Susan for you. Back in Narnia, she had been the principle axe on their diplomatic politics, putting her bemusing ability to charm the pants out of anyone with only a gentle smile and a polite compliment to good use. To be fair, Peter and Lucy had not been bad either, but Edmund...well, let's just say after a few diplomatic incidents, the Just King had refrained from interacting with sensitive ambassadors as much as physically possible.

Edmund didn't charm people. Edmund  _destroyed_ them, before they could attack anything he held dear. It wasn't healthy, nor fair, or helpful in the long run. He just couldn't help it.

Just look how splendidly he had messed up with Petunia.

"I"m not  _that_  bad," he mumbled, which only managed to double Dorcas' hilarity.

"I know several persons who might be inclined to disagree," Susan's  _mean, mean_  eyes twinkled with sadistic amusement. "Speaking of, where is Lily?"

Damn. Edmund held his breath, as Severus froze mild action, as he had been turning a page of his book when Susan dropped The Question.

"Lily is..." Ed casted a guilty glance at his brother's blank face. "With other friends."

Naturally, he could tell how unimpressed his sister was with this evasive answer, but she chose not push the issue, which he was extremely grateful for. Unfortunatly, Doras didn't bother with the same consideration for the obviously sensitive matter. "What have you done again?"

What had he done indeed. Despite popular belief, Edmund would like to state he didn't  _purposely_  created diplomatic incidents for the fun of it. Well, most of the time anyway. Pricky Slytherins didn't counted, everyone knew that. But the point was, Edmund's rather impressive talent to annoy people and make ennemies wherever he went should be considered as a medical condition, instead of his entire responsibility.

The positively murderous glare his twin bestowed upon him told him exactly what Severus thought of his  _condition_. Which was a bit rich coming from a social recluse like Severus, who usually enjoyed the most the trail of broken dreams and murderous threats Edmund left behind him.

When it came his beloved Lily however, Severus completely lost his sense of humor.

"I might have...miscalculated...a bit."

"Miscalculated?" Severus snorted, with that vicious snark he got from their mother. "If you mean by that you involved yourself into other people's business and made a mess of it  _again_ , then yes, you  _miscalculated_."

If life in Narnia taught Edmund many capital lessons, the most important would be that keeping a family united required sacrifice, for all parties involved. And so Edmund had learned to handle Peter's overprotectiveness without balking, to accept Susan's almost pathological need to control everything, to support Lucy's cheerful, optimistic approach to life, so different from his own caustic temperament.

Severus had never needed to be toss into the middle of a war he understand nothing of, nor to betray his own siblings  _for nothing_ , or to be saved with the sacrifice of another to get that lesson. Because Severus already  _knew_ , and had always known.

Family required concessions, and acceptance, and  _sacrifice_ , and Sev, although entirely uncompromising to anyone who didn't happen to be closely related to hom or a certain pretty redhead, gave all that to Ed. Sev might grumble, sigh and deadpan the whole way, but he let his twin do his shit without truly trying to stop him. He let Ed alienate their whole House and annoy Very Important People, despite his own desire to fit in. He let Ed drag his asocial self and threw him to the wolves, aka Lucy's mad crew. He let Ed have his secrets.

But Severus's tolerance to his twin's exentricities had a limit, and its name was Lily Evans. Admittedly the Slytherin Issue Ed was still working on probably didn't help.

"I don't even know what you're so upset about, it's not _you_ precious Lily is giving the silence treatment to anyway. And you don't give a fuck about Pet's feelings."

"I'm  _angry_ ," and his frown told Edmund exactly what he needed to know about the word 'upset' used to qualify his emotional state,"that once again, you just went ahead without thinking of  _consequencies_."

(Meanwhile, in the background.

" _Well, that's certainly entertaining_ ," Dorcas whispered with a fascinated grin.

" _Maybe we should go..._ " Susan frowned doubtfully, skeptical about Ed's chances of survival if left to his own advices to face his twin's warth.

" _What? Are you kidding? This is the best show I'm going to get for a while."_

_"...Is that so? Aren't you living in a magical school? How much entertainement do you need on a daily basis?"_

_"Lots, and magic gets boring after a while. Why do you think I follow Snapish around?"_ )

"Okay, that's not fair," Edmund retorted, on the defensive. "I didn't just decided that morning to show up and make Pet cry for the fun of it. I was honestly trying to  _help_."

Because to be honest, Edmund  _understood_ Petunia, better than Lily ever would. He had been there after all not so long ago, the lesser, bitter, petulant child brooding in the shadows of his siblings. But Pet wouldn't get a Narnia crisis to sort out her feelings and get over it.

What Petunia could get however, was an Ed. And though it hadn't been his objective, if their common ressentment of him could help the both sisters to get over their differences, well he still counted that as a win.

"You made Petunia  _cry_?" Sev seemed genually startled that his enemy did have feelings of her own. Shocking. "Nevermind, the point is you stuck your nose into places it had nothing to be and screw things up,  _again_!"

"They're both my friends, my nose was exactly where it should have been," Edmund protested.

(" _Who's Petunia_?" Dorcas mumbled with genuine confusion.

" _Lily's sister, I reckon."_

_"Oh. And who's Lily again?"_

_"Lily Evans, their childhood friend. You can't miss her, she's a redhead Gryffindor our year..."_

_"Oh yeah, the muggleborn spitfire? The one Severus has a giant crush on?"_ )

"Merlin, how  _obtuse_  can you get exactly?" Sev looked that close to throw his arm in the air with frustration. "How would you feel if someone told  _us_  how to sort our business?"

"Wait, like Lily does  _all the time_?" Edmund snorted. "I guess if it's the girl  _you_ 're in love with, then it's okay?"

"I am not. In love. With Lily," his twin lied through gritted teeth.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'll apologize to Lily, and Petunia," Edmund sighed, suddently exhausted with all the fighting. "I'll fix this."

Lily would forgive him. Despite their semi-constant fighting, she always did. Eventually. Lily belonged to that category quick to anger, bu also easy to offer forgiveness, as long as you stayed out of the radar the time for her to cool off and grovelled enough.

"Oh no, you don't," Severus snorted. "I'm tired of you  _fixing_ things.  _I_ 'll fix your mess."

Edmund stared at his brother's decided frown, who seemed to have utter forgotten his own self-imposed non-involvement rule. And  _laughed_.

(" _He finally lost his marbles, didn't he_?")

"And about _you_..." Severus turned towards the two girls and unvolontary public of their show. "You heard  _nothing_."

Susan didn't look impressed. But to be fair to Sev, Susan never did.

.

.

Something Dead(ish)

.

.

"I'm not going into that carriage," Peter announced to the whole group after they finally managed to get out of the train.

Peter would like to say he had been very open-minded since magic had entered (again) in life without any warning. He hadn't said anything about the Giant Squid, or posting owls stealing his bacon, or the mirors making sarcastic fashion statements over his morning hair. But a guy had to drew the line  _somewhere_ , and Peter had just reached his.

The winged beast from Hell casually harnessed to their carriage met Peter's horrified glare, tilted his fleshless head to the side, and then decided him to be unworthy of further attention.

"Not fancy enough for your taste, Andrews?" Sirius mocked as he climbed first into the black vehicle, apparently indifferent to its hellish mule.

Before Peter could bark a well-deserved reply to Sirius's usual bravado, Remus grabbed his arm. "I think they're Theastrals."

"And?" Peter whispered back.

"And only those who have seen Death can see them."

Oh...oh. Well, didn't that make perfect sense. Damned  _magic_.

.

.

"Oh God, I completely forgot," Susan mumbled angrily to herself.

Edmund stared at the dead horse thing leading the carriage supposed to drop them to Hogwarts. The dead horse thing stared back, with their truly terrifying red orbits of  _death_. He silently reconsidered every poor life choice that would have get him to this moment. It took a quite a while.

He opened his mouth to say something about the dead horse thing everyone else seemed to take for granted, which became a very manly cry as Susan pinched his arm for no apparent reason.

"Don't look at the horse Ed," she ordered  _sotto voce_. "Don't even mention the horse. I'll explain later."

Edmund obeyed of course, because one did not just ignore Susan's instructions. The Gentle Queen  _his arse_.

.

.

"Well, aren't you  _adorable_?" Lucy crooned to what seemed like an empty space in front of their carriage.

John Macmillan shook his head and wisely declared to his best friend David. "I don't even want to know. Just. No."

.

.

Something Gentle

.

.

Susan had known Brutus Flint since childhood. He had been a recurring feature in the hord of bored pureblood progeny forced to come to the tedious parties their parents so enjoyed. Just like her sisters, Sirius and Regulus, Annabelle and Evan Rosier, Arturus Rookwood, and many others children haunting manors and playing grown up. Susan had never gotten along with the Flint scion, but if he really thought she couldn't tell when he was going to do something even stupidier than usual, he had another thing coming.

"Don't even think about it," Susan whispered to the first-year Slytherin standing next to her.

With a flinch Brutus hastily retracted his wandering hand to his own pocket. On his other side, the potential victime of the prank kept his eyes on Professor Beety without betraying awareness. Susan highly doubted Edmund wouldn't have noticed Brutus Flint putting something in his pocket though. Herbology lectures weren't  _that_ interesting her paranoid brother would miss a eleven year old's unsubtle moves.

"The fuck Black," Flint hissed angrily at her.

"I don't condone bullying, you know that," Susan replied sotto voice without deigning to meet his insistent glare.

"Yeah, you're a damn tight-arse bitch, I remember alright. Didn't take you for a  _blood traitor_ tough."

Blood traitor. The highest offence among Pureblood society. It might have hurt hadn't Susan stopped caring years ago. "The blood traitor knows what you did to the Carrows' soirée."

"You little bi..."

"Miss Black, Mister Flint, do you mind sharing with the class what is so important you can't even wait until the end of my lesson?" Professor Beety smiled politely at them, and all eyes turned to them.

Well, it wasn't like Susan wasn't used to the spotlight already. "We were just admiring the Bouncing Bulbs, Professor. Please forgive us for the interruption."

Her fellow students from Ravenclaw and Slytherin both snickered at her answer. From Flint's right side, Ed  _winked_  at her, the cheeky brat.

"Is that so? How could I blame you then." Professor Beety kept his smile. "Would you mind telling us how you would handle an agressive Bouncing Bulb, Miss Black."

"It depends of the size. Those ones," Susan pointed at the pots in front of them," are small enough to be stopped by a Knockback jinx."

"Very well, Miss Black," the Herbology Professor beamed at her. "But please do refrain from speaking in my class when I'm giving a lecture, it hurts my feelings. Mister Flint, what spell would you use on a bigger Bulb?"

Flint smirked. Susan knew that one too. It meant he was going to say something incredibly mean on purpose. "I need no spell. I can just throw Black at them."

New round of snickers in the greenhouse. Lord, Susan was  _so_  done with pre-teens. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, pureblood, mugleborn or non magical, they were all equally tedious to handle.

"Five points from Slytherin, and you will come see me at the end of the class." Beety's smile finally wavered. "I don't accept unkindness between my students, Mister Flint. I hope you will take this lesson into consideration."

Susan had doubts on that account. Flint lived on through spite alone, to make others as miserable as he was. It drove him mad not to be able to make poor little Susan react to his pathetic cries for attention. "Whatever."

"Well children, you know what to do," the teacher gestured at the pots. "make groups of two or three and start repotting those little buggers."

Susan moved to Edmund's side as she always did for Herbology lessons. Peter for Metamorphosis, Lucy for Potions, and the rest on her own. Her brother grinned at her. He looked...tired. Susan was more used to that face she would have like.

"I thought you said you were handling it," Susan said, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"I am," Edmund replied in a casual tone while putting his gloves on. "Flint was going to put his ring on my pocket and accuse me of thievery. I was still considering whether to smuggle back it into his own jacket or into Rookwood's. Tough choice, thanks for sparing me the struggle sis."

"I don't call this 'handling' the situation Ed," Susan sighed. Her Bouncing Bulb made a worring blurping noise, to her brother's amusement. "Where is Severus?"

She was pretty sure Ed's twin had been there this morning. And here he was, making a team with Annabelle Rosier and Georges Greenglass and avoiding her inquiring glance. Odd.

"Severus is giving me the silent treatment right now," Ed shruggled as if his brother and best friend not speaking not him did not bothered him particulary.

"I take it you haven't made peace with Lily then," she deduced from the conversation on the train as she started repotting her Bouncing Bulb.

"Yeah, no. She threw her Hogwart's History at me. That thing is  _heavy_ ," Ed shuddered at the reminder, before he lightened. "Hey Sue,  _you_ 're a girl..."

"That's kind of you to notice."

"...and you know Lily. How do you think I could get myself forgiven?"

Sometimes, Susan had to remind herself how old Edmund actually was. He was lucky she had to take pity on him out of familial loyalty. "You're doing this all wrong. Lily is not going to forgive you until her sister does."

"You don't know Petunia," Edmund groaned. "She could keep a grudge until the end of time."

"At least  _try_. Send her a letter."

" _Trying_  is how I got into trouble in the first place."

"Try cleverly." Susan refrained heroically from rolling her eyes. "I'm sure you have it within you."

"If I get arrested for harrassment, I'm blaming you." Edmund shook in her direction a finger covered with revulsing substances.

Susan was going to tell him exactly what she thought of his propention not to accept responsibility for his mistakes when Professor Beety popped by their working table. They both beamed at their teacher with discutable sincerity. "How is going with you two?"

"Peachy, Professor!" Edmund perked up as he swiftly avoided a spray of pus coming from his plant. "I love pus!"

"Why, me too! I'll leave you to it then," and then he was off to chastize one of her classmates who had managed to push one of her green charges into ritual suicide and had splashed the whole group with its disgusting remains.

"'I love pus', you say," Susan giggled. "Since when?"

"There are many things you don't know about me, Black," Edmund shook his head with faked wisdom.

Susan had little doubt about it. Even in their reigning days, at the peak of their familial proximity, everyone had their secrets, even Susan. It was only natural after all.

"Sooo..." Edmund woke the conversation after five minutes of working in silence. "Now that we've talked about my relationship manadging issues, are you going to tell me what's bothering  _you_?"

One day Susan would stop underestimating her brother's observation skills. "Is something bothering me?"

The unimpressed glare Edmund gratified her evasive answer could have frozen a Fiendfyre into submission. "Don't. If you don't want to talk about it fine, but don't lie."

"I'm...not. It's just a feeling. I think something's wrong with Lucy."

Edmund hummed along. "And Frank. I noticed too. Why don't you ask her about it?"

"Why don't  _you_?"

Her brother smiled at her knowlingly. "I don't need to. Lucy will tell when she feels like it."

Susan wished she could content herself with that.

.

.

Something Valiant

.

.

When Lucy was an actual wide-eyed eight years old, she had been given what would become her most precious blessing and worst curse: the cordial. She hadn't understood what it meant at the time, only that it was a gift from  _Father Christmas_ , so it couldn't be bad. She only began to see the implications of such a power in her hands after the Battle, as she moved frantically from broken bodies to destroyed corpses.

A vial of liquid miracles, the power to heal anything, but in  _limited quantity_.

It meant Lucy had to  _choose_. Who got to live, and who was left to die. And every time she used a single drop of her gift, she had to wonder if one day she would run dry on miracles, if she would have to watch one of siblings or friends die, like the rest of humanity. Helpless.

Lucy had turned to the healing arts with frantic despair. She learnt to mend, to stitch, to split with her own two hands, and what plants to use when whose weren't enough. She spent countless hours over medical tomes and under their healer's tutelage. Meanwhile her siblings became masters at ruling countries through justice, diplomacy and politics, the valiant queen slowly learnt how to rule over flesh, bones and blood with a cheerful smile and a sure hand. So that she only had to use the cordial as a last ressort.

Therefore over the years, Lucy had seen enough wounds to tell this one was Bad. Really Bad. But to be fair, no one needed plenty of experience in the medical arts to recognized that wrists were not meant to be bend that way. Wrists were also no meant to be smashed against the ground at full velocity, so Lucy only had herself to blame for that.

Well, herself, and James Potter and Sirius Black, who thought releasing a Bludger in their Quidditch class was a Good Idea.

It wasn't. Well, it kinda was, because Lucy could appreciate the value of chaos and mayhem, but she drew the line at risking people getting injured. Like right now.

"Are you alright?" Lucy ignored the agonizing pain in her right arm to focus on the boy she had tackled into the ground. Good old adrenaline helped.

Peter Pettigrew stared at her with globulous eyes, godsmatched. He had had the same expression of frozen incredulity when the Bludger had flown furiously in his direction. Naked fear, and the reckless, valiant part of Lucy had taken hold of the broom and went full speed towards him, tackling the two of them on the ground before the Bludger impacted.

The Hufflepuff should be glad Pettigrew had only been hoovering one meter on the air, and not higher. She would have broken more than a wrist otherwise.

Speaking of.

"Fuuuuck," Lucy hissed at her quickly swelling arm. She shouldn't be swearing in front of influencable kids, but Aslan, did she hurt.

"Wow, Prewett, that was  _amazing_!" Lucy barely recognized Sirius Black's admirative voice over the familiar fog of pain falling over her senses. "James, did you  _see_  that?"

Lucy could only assume their teacher had finally managed to subdue the mad bludger, the chaos seemed to have quiet down. Things went blurry for her, as she fought not to pass out.

"Lucy.  _Lucy_!"

Lucy blinked confusingly to Peter's worried-but-gotta-keep-calm battle face. Peter her brother, not Peter she had just slammed into. "I'm fine," she tried to smile. "I didn't hit my head."

At least she didn't remember hitting her head. Lucy touched her scalp tentatively with her valid hand, without finding signs of trauma. Which was great, because concussions were just the worst. So really, Peter didn't have to look like the world had just ended. Lucy was  _fine_. Who needed hands anyway.

"Lucy, your  _arm_ ," Peter glared at her wrist with rising horror. Precisely the reason Lucy was the one in charge of medical corps. Her whiny big brother had no spine for injuries.

"It's broken," she replied helpfully. "Hurts a bit." Which wasn't a lie, strickly speaking, just an euphemism.

"No shit Sherlock," Ed's grumpy face popped near Peter's. "Move, Pettigrew, you're in the way."

Edmund had never gotten over of his unfortunate tendency to deal with worry by turning meaner and meaner. "Don't be rude," she called her brother out of sheer habit.

They both ignored her. "Professor, we're taking Lucy to the infirmary," Ed called out as Peter gathered her into his arms.

Before Lucy knew it, she had gotten herself all over Peter, bridal style. "I can walk, you idiots," she protested vemehently.

Around them, the few first-years who had gotten over the bagder-induced panic whispered furiously at the display. Those two dumbasses had given her classmates enough material to feed the rumor mill for  _months_.

Peter waisted no time dweeling around for their professor's permission as he began to walk intently back towards the castle, Edmund in his trail. Now that shock of the accident had passed, the pain had gone full blow, throwbing vindically from her elbow to her hand. Radius at the very least, Lucy analysed experimentally the damage, ulna probably. No sign of cutaneous opening, though the skin around her wrist had colored with that nice red swelling of inflammation.

"What were you thinking, throwing yourself from your broom like that?" Ed interrupted her musings rudely from her right.

The blue of the sky had let place to comforting grey of Hogwarts' corridors. As Peter hurried to the infirmary, several students got a front row to the Lucy's Humiliation Parade. Oh well, she might as well owned it. Lucy waved cheerfully to a group fourth year Hufflepuffs gaping at them with her non-crushed hand. "Well, poor Pete wasn't moving! I couldn't let him get hit."

"Stop. Fidgeting," Edmund groaned as he glared at everyone who had the nerve to lay an eye on them. "Black and Potter got one of the seventh years to enchant the bludger so that it wouldn't actually hit anyone."

Oh. So those two weren't completely reckless after all. Now she felt stupid for her overreaction. In her defense, it wasn't like she had had the time to think about the pro and con of her actions. "Well I couldn't have  _known_  that, could I?"

"Stop it, both of you."

Lucy turned her head to peek over Peter's shoulder. "Susan! I hadn't seen you there."

If Peter looked as if he couldn't choose beetween random panic and calm authority and Edmund had reverted to his snappish self with anxiety, Susan's white face didn't betrayed any emotion. Her cold-headed sibling was usually the one to diffuse complex confrontation with rationality and common sense. Her silence in a situation where she would usually intervene to convince their rash brothers to calm the fuck down bothered Lucy. "Are you okay? You don't look too good..."

"We don't want to hear that from you," Edmund frowned as Susan kept silent. "This way, Pete."

Peter barged in the infirmary as if he had been an carrying open-gutted victim instead of Lucy's insignificant wrist sprain. "Madam Pomphrey!"

The grievely wounded rolled her eyes at her siblings' dramatic entrance. The school nurse didn't looked much impressed either. She took one glance to Lucy's arm. "Ugh. Quidditch again?"

Lucy smiled brightly.

.

.

Something Loyal

.

.

"Jesus Christ," Kingsley chuckled as he stopped to stare at the courtyard. "I can't believe we've ever been so small."

Frank slowed down to stand next to his friend. A full cohort of first-years from all houses were making their way back from the Quidditch pitch, their uniform tainted with dirt, their hair in dissmay and their cheeks rosy from the bite of January's scottish wind. Ah, those good ol' Quidditch lessons. Frank himself was barely decent on a broom, but he remembered outdoors classes with Professor Alistair fondly all the same.

Almost unwillingly, Frank began to look for a familiar blond head among the crowd of bright-eyes firsties.

"C'mon mate," Kingsley tugged on Frank's sleeve. "McGonagall will have our head if we're late again."

"One minute. Something's wrong," Frank mumbled before calling out for the first familiar head he recognized. "Hey Lily!"

The redhead paused in surprise before turning to the duo of third years staring at her from the alcoves. She looked positively murderous. As in, post Potter-and-Black-pranking-time murderous. Frank knew better than to take it for himself and waved at her with a friendly grin. Instead of easing her up, his greeting seemed to tense Lily even further. Odd.

Nonetheless, the Gryffindor trotted towards them with an uneasy smile, Severus at her heels. For some reasons, Lily had grabed by the arm a blond plumb boy Frank knew he had seen sometimes in their Common Room and proceeded to drag him in their direction. He looked frankly terrified of her. Frank was permanently surrounded by terrifying women, he was not judging.

"Hey guys," Frank smiled in greeting despite his growing unease. "You're back early."

And _without Lucy_. His cousin woudn't miss a occasion to show off her flying skills even on her deathbed. Something was definitely wrong.

"Hi Frank, Shacklebott. There have been an...incident."

Frank did not liked the way they all seemed to be avoiding his eyes.

"An  _incident_? What kind of incident?" Kinglsey perked up, most surely amused by their sheepish faces.

"Potter and Black," Severus snarled their names like the worst insult," thought it might be funny to release a Bludger in class."

Ah. Yes, it did seemed like something the two hellions might do. Free a vicious enchanted ball among a crowd of firsties on brooms, and enjoy the following chaos.

At the mention of her facetious classmates, Lily's expression darkened even more. "I'm seriously going to kill those  _idiots_. If Professor Dumbledore doesn't expell them first."

Severus snorted cynically. "Black and Potter are old blood. They won't be expelled unless to get someone killed."

The blond boy Lily had yet to release from her grasp squealed anxiously, and thus attracted the redhead's attention back to him. The poor guy should have no better than called back a predator that had forgotten about his existence. "I hope  _you_  weren't involve in this nonsense,  _Peter_."

"Me? The bludger _attacked me_ , in case you have forgotten! Le...let go of me, you crazy madwoman!" the boy Frank finally recalled nicknaming The Other Peter in the privacy of his own mind screeched indignantly.

Again with uncomfortable avoidance of his eyes. "Yeeeees, about that..." Lily drawled uncharactically. "So LucypushedPeteroutofthewayandgohurt!"

Silence. "Err, could you repeat that?" Kinglsey said kindly.

"How hurt?" Frank interrupted his friend.

Of course, if there even a tiny room for heroics, Lucy I-don't-value-my-own-life Prewett would jump right into it. That was precisely why the brat needed constant supervision. Merlin, Frank  _hated_  his cousin sometimes. No, not really, but he wished he did. The compassionate glances some fellow Gryffindors had shot him suddently made sense.

"Her wrist. She fell on it," Snape explained, before adding hesitantly. "It...it didn't looked too bad."

"Peter took her to the infirmary," Lily added. "Andrews, I mean."

Right. Right. The infirmary. "Kingsley, I..."

"Just go, mate," his friend patted his shoulder with a tight smile. "I'll tell McGonagall."

Frank went. He found himself at the doors to the infirmary thanks to reflex memories alone, as his brain couldn't be bothered to come up with anything useful aside from "what if she is dead and no one's wants to tell me?". Frank understood rationally that his cousin had just taken a bad fall, that she was  _fine_ , but. But.  _What if_?

What if Lucy was gone before they could fix whatever they had broken? If the only words they had exchanged were awkwards good-by at the worst Christmas ever?

Frank's father had been fine too. Until he wasn't.

"Hey Longbottom," a voice called for him as he pushed the doors without knocking. "Took you long enough buddy."

Frank startled at the sudden noise. At first glance, the infirmary seemed deserted, if not for three first-years waiting on a corner. Peter Andrews, Ed Snape and Susan Black, of course. Ever since that disastrous conversation with Lucy back in december, Frank had avoided the three of them like the dragonpox. It was better that way, otherwise he would be tempted to push for information. Or might just lashed out on them for indirectly ruining his relationship with his best friend.

"The pest is being examinated by the Matron," Ed stared at one of private rooms adjacent to common room. He then pat the bed he had claimed as his own. "Sit down with us, it shouldn't too long now."

There was no point avoiding them now. Frank shruggled helplessly and made his way towards the trio. Peter smiled unsincerely at him, his attention clearly focused on whatever was happening with his cousin. And Susan...Susan just stared into space without aknowedging his arrival. The Black ravenclaw wasn't the most expressive person on a good day, but he had never seen her so  _blank_.

Something ugly like fury clawed in way through Frank's ribcage. Lucy was  _his_ cousin. _He_ was the one who had known her their entire life, while those three had met her not six months. They had no right to look like the sky had fallen over their head, not after they had ruin Frank's greatest friendship.

He took a deep breath. He just loathed the taste of hate. Anger never solved anything. "How is she?"

"The words 'stupid Quidditch' and 'comminuted fracture of the distal extremities of the radius' had been thrown around," Edmund winced before taking pity of Frank's confused frown. "Apparently it meant Lu smashed her wrist into several pieces."

"So Madam Pomphrey can't just waved it better blindly," Peter added quietly, his worried expression still firmly in place.

Black had yet to aknowledge Frank's existence. Such behavior wasn't characteristic of the usually unfailingly polite Pureblood. She must have been truly shaken by the incident. Frank wouldn't want to be in Sirius Black's shoes when Susan snapped out of it and went for the kill.

After the brief exchange, they waited silently for the school nurse to come put an end to their misery. Neither of them felt like making small talk to kill time. Nothing was more agonizing than wait for news, except trying to play it casual while waiting for news. Right now, Frank wouldn't trust his tongue to put two coherent thoughts regarding the weather together.

Eventually the door to the examination room opened.

"Oh good, there is another one," Madam Pomphrey frowned disapprovingly at Frank. He sincerely doubted she meant it though. The matron had a soft spot for him since Potion Incident that shall not be spoken about. "Mister Longbottom, I should have been expecting you."

"No one ever does!" Frank faked a cheer as he straighened from the bed.

"How is Lucy, Madam?" Peter didn't bothered with pleasantries, clearly at the end of his rope.

"She is fine," Pomphrey's automatic frown softened. "I owled a specialist from St Mungo, he should be here soon. I'm keeping her here in the mean time. But we're confident she's going to make a full recovery. You kids should go back to class now."

"May we see her, please?" Susan spoke for the first time, her voice as steady as ever.

The nurse visibly hesitated, before shaking her head negatively. "I'm afraid Miss Prewett isn't fit for visitors right now."

Frank gasped with anxious confusion. And what was that supposed to mean? She just said Lucy was fine, why wouldn't she be fit to see them...?

"You put her on the good stuff, didn't you?" Edmund chuckled as he clapped Frank's shoulder confortingly. "I bet she's unbearable right now."

"Go to class," Pomphrey waved her hand dismissively at them. Which totally meant  _yes._ "I don't want to see your faces until this evening."

"Aw, you don't really mean tha..hey! Peter!" Edmund struggled faintly as the gryffindor dragged him by the collar to the exit, Susan a silent shadow on their steps.

"You're such a child," Peter mumbled tiredly once the doors had closed behind Frank's back. Which was quite a strange thing to say from an eleven years old boy to another. "Well Frank, see you lat..."

"Wait."

Frank had been patient. He had tried, truly. But now he wanted answers. Something like panic lightened Andrews' electric blue eyes, while Snape simply glanced at him curiously. Susan turned to face him, her blank expression as unreadable as before.

Frank could swear he saw a flash of  _dare_  dance beyond the mask of civility.

"I want to know for how long you've known Lucy."

Silence. Edmund, at least looked genuinely confused about this recent development. Peter however... from the way he had briefly closed in eyes in depair, Peter did knew where Frank was coming from.

"Err mate, what are you talking about?" Edmund frowned convincingly at the Longbottom heir. "You were there remem..."

"Don't," Frank rose his hand, his usual smile nowhere to be seen. "I already know you've met my cousin before last summer. What I want to know is when and why."

All three shared a  _look_. The kind of look that betrayed more than a few months of acquaintance. Frank couldn't believe he hadn't seen it sooner. It was oblivious when you looked for it. The casual ease of their interactions, like dancers who had learn how to move together, their steps perfectly synchonized into a familiar waltz.

The confirmation that Lucy's secrets ran deeper than he had thought hit like a ton of brick thrown on his ribcage.

"Look Frank," Peter started before spurting with horrified surprise. "Susan,  _what are you doing_?"

Before anyone could react, Black had Frank frozen at wand point, her pale hand steady around the white wood. The same strange wood than Lucy's wand, Frank uselessly focused on. Same than Edmund's and Peter's. And Frank just didn't get it.

Frank met Susan's blue eyes, so similar to Lucy's friendly sky orbs. At that moment, Frank understood that if she felt she had do, Susan could and would kill him. She would hate herself for it, but she would not hesitate. Like right now. It wasn't even personal. Frank was simply a liability, and the pureblood wouldn't stand for it.

Just like anyone else in this school, Frank had let the politeness and apparent kindness fool him. He had forgotten Susan Black was a  _Black_ , and Blacks only took mercy into consideration when it suited them.

Frank had honestly been expecting a flash of green when she muttered " _Obivia_...".

The spell missed him by a wide margin, thanks to Edmund pushing her arm away and Peter jumping to restrain his friend, snagging her wand from her hand. Susan stayed surpringly unresponsive despite the muggleborn forceful embrace. "What the  _fuck_...Have you lost your fucking  _mind_?"

" _Obiviate_ ," Frank whispered to himself, confounded. "...the memory spell?"

At least, she hadn't actually tried to murder him. Just to mess up with his mind. Which meant Frank was  _right_. Even more than he had thought. Susan was not mad enough to attack him if he hadn't stumble into something serious. How did she even knew that spell? The memory removal spell wasn't part of Hogwart's curriculum, not even in seventh years, for good reasons. People had lost their mind for less than a carelessly thrown Obliviate.

"He knows. If he speaks, we could all be in danger. Let go of me."

She truly meant that. Susan actually believed his vague suspicions might risk their safety. "In danger from who?" Frank breathed out.

" _No one_ ," Edmund bit out with a vicious glare to Black's still face. "I can't believe you tried to remove his memories on a whim. Do you realize what kind of damage that spell could have done on his mind?"

"The Ministary uses it daily on Muggles. It was perfectly fine," Susan denied, a spark of hesitation slipping through her mask of indifference.

"... _what_?" Peter blinked. The gryffindor seemed so at ease at Hogwarts Frank honestly tended to forgot he had been raised as a Muggle.

"He's just a  _kid_ , Sue! What's  _wrong_ with you!" Edmund snapped, ignoring the blond's confusion.

Susan hadn't remove her unervingly blue eyes from his. There was something Frank had never seen beneath that glassy expression of her. Something strange, otherworldly. Something _old_. No wonder her most of her housemates couldn't stand her. At that instant, he felt like understood each other better than they ever did, Susan and him.

"How  _old_  are you exactly...?"

It didn't make any sense but. But.

They all froze. "Okay no." Edmund pinched his nose with a pained sigh. "We're not having this conversation in the middle of the corridor. Just, no. And we're not wrecking  _Lucy's cousin's_  brain either."

"You heard him, Edmund," Susan glared at the Slytherin, still held by Peter.

Snape ignored her. "Look Frank, I realize we're looking kind of bad right, but I swear we don't mean to hurt you. Or anyone really. If you want to know, could you follow us? There is an empty classroom we use for this shit..."

What shit, Frank wanted to scream. In what kind of mess Lucy had gotten herself into?

He said flatly. "You ask me to follow you guys to a deserved classroom when one of you just tried to wipe out my memories."

"Yep," Edmund shrugged. "I can give you my word we're not going to attack you, if it has any worth to you."

"Mine too," Peter sighed with an exhausted smile while Susan snorted. "Not mine."

Frank almost wanted to laugh at her petulant glare. "Which is why you're not allowed to have your wand anymore," Peter shook her wand in front of her nose disapprovingly.

He was not fool enough to believe a wandless Black was a harmless one. Frank was crazy to even consider it. He should be screaming bloody murder right now. What a first-class idiot.

"Okay. Lead the way."

.

.

"So, what is it you know exactly?" Edmund asked with false cheer as the door closed behind him. "I thought we were doing just fine. Unless Sue had been jinxing people's memories behind our back this all time."

Susan had the gall to sigh at their antics. As if they were the one on the wrong here. "No, Ihaven't. Are you going to return my wand now?"

"No," Peter replied flatly. "Not until we're sure you're going to stay reasonable, and yes, I can't believe I'm saying that to you either."

And now, they're bantering, causal as fuck. Frank couldn't believe this people. Back on track. "Hard to explain. Just a feeling at first. Lucy was acting weird around you. I just pushed until she accidentaly let something slip about you guys knowing each other for longer that what you pretended."

Peter winced visibly. Even Frank could sense his discomfort.

"Did she now," Edmund's amiable grin closed off. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Peter. "You  _knew_ , you sly dog!"

"Yeah, Lucy told me," Peter grinned sheepishly. "We were planning to tell you tonight..."

"I told you she was acting weird." Black deadpanned.

"Don't 'I told you so' me now Sue!" Edmund threw his arms in the air angrily. "I can't believe you all, we're supposed to be a  _team_! How I am the one reasonable right now?"

As they all kept arguing between themselves without paying attention to him, Frank was painfully reminded of family reunions. He didn't have siblings himself, but he had spent enough time at Prewett-Weasley dinner to know nothing could be as vicious as relatives. It wasn't possible of course. Black and Prewett were distantly related at best, and Snape a halfblood from a insignifant Slytherin-oriented house from what Frank had gathered. Not to speak of Andrews.

Besides, Frank would _know_. Right?

"Like what you've been doing for months with Slytherin?" Peter bit back. "You don't get to get on your high horse about teamwork, little br..."

"Ahem." Frank cleared his throat. He beamed at the three frowning first-years. "Not that it's not entertaining to watch you snap at each other, but I believe I was promised answers."

"Right. You want answers. Don't we all," Snape mumbled as he rampaged through his backpack. "There we go."

Edmund held triumphaly a piece of paper. Frank took what looked like a Charm assignement with a dubvious frown. Both Peter and Susan looked as confused as he did. "An E? That's great but I don't see.."

Ed taped the paper with the tip of his hand. The assignement turned into a muggle picture, grey and unmoving.

"Ed, where did you get that?" Peter gasped, his eyes wide with shock.

The picture showed a family. A father, blond and standing proudly in a muggle military uniform. A mother, her mousy brown hair held into a bun, smiling sadly to the camera. And four children. A boy looking strickingly similar to Peter, a couple years older perhaps, his arm slipped over Susan's doppelganger's shoulders. Edmund's carbon copy in cardigan and shorts ignored the camera to smirk sideway to his younger sister.

Frank's heart missed a beat as he recognized Lucy's familiar smile, taunting him beneath the paper.

"Who are those people?"

"Helen and Robert Pevensie. And their children, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy Pevensie," Edmund replied softly. "The picture was taken in 1940, just before Robert was called to the front lines."

It was impossible. Snape had be tricking him. That, or he was completely mad.

But Frank had said it himself hadn't he? 'How old are you really', indeed.

"So Longbottom," Edmund added with a sad smile that reminded Frank of the woman in the picture. "What are your thoughts regarding reincarnation?"

"I'd never imagine I would need an opinion on the subject," Frank replied truthfully, his tongue working on autopilot.

Reincarnation.  _Reincarnation_. Lucy and the others acted like siblings because they  _were_. Or at least were absolutely convinced they were. Frank wanted to throw up. How. Just, how?

The worst thing was perhaps, Frank actually believed them.

"Where did you got that picture?" Susan,  _Lucy's older sister_ , snatched the picture from Frank's frozen fingers. "And why are you carrying that around with you?"

"I went to see good ol' cousin Eustache. And your paranoia isn't nearly as charming as you think it is,  _sister_."

"I'm not paranoid, I'm cautious! Do you realize the disaster it would be if someone found this?"

"Of course I do, which is why I enchanted it."

And here they went arguing again. "Stop it you two, now is not the moment," Peter rubbed bis eyes. "Frank, you don't look too good."

No  _shit_. "How is this even possible?"

Frank was only thirteen, and not a spectacular scholar at that, but if reincarnation was a thing that happened regularly, he'd know. He would.

"We don't know, to be honest," Peter winced. Not a lie, but not a truth either.

"What are you scared of then?" Frank stared straight at Susan.

She stared back impassively. "You said it yourself. It's not supposed to be possible. What do you think they will do to us if they found out."

Who was 'they'? The Ministary? The departement of mysteries would kill for an opportunity like this. Or perhaps Susan's family? Merlin only knew what Blacks would do this such a knowledge regarding their youngest daughter. Especially considering..."You were  _muggles_."

Edmund snorted. "I hate that word."

"What  _happened_  to you?" Frank ignored the rebuttal. What happened to  _Lucy_ , to make her so irreparably scarred from the inside. She hid knifes in her boots since she was six at least. That was not the behavior of a well-adjusted child.

"We died," Peter explained softly.

"And we could die again," Susan added darkly. "If you breath a word about this to anyone..."

"For fuck's sake, she's my  _cousin_ ," Frank snapped, because he loathed confrontations but he had limits, dammit. "I would never put her in danger okay!"

"Would you make a Vow then?"

The Longbottom scion missed a breath. Was she asking what he thought she was asking? Peter only looked confused. Of course as a muggleburn, he couldn't understand his sister had casually demanded a death-bond to a thirteen years old.

"Susan, you're going too far," Edmund narrowed his blue eyes, a so similar shade to his sibings'. "You can't just ask Lucy's cousin to take a Unbreakable Vow without consultating her!"

"Like  _she_  consultated us I gather?" Susan replied, cool as a cumcumber.

"This is one of those wizard things I don't know about again, isn't it?" Peter sighed, resigned.

Oh. Those people had  _issues_. Communication truly wasn't their thought he had learnt more about Lucy in one hour than in years.

"I would," Frank blurted out before he could let common sense stop him. "But if only if you Vow to tell me the truth. The whole truth."

Susan looked at him. Truly looked at him, Frank, not her sister's cousin or a potential danger. "Alright, Lord Longbottom. We have a deal."

And they did.

.

.

"Oh, hey Frank," Lucy smiled hesitantly to his entrance in the infirmary. "Look at my brand new wrist!"

"Nice," Frank eyed her unblemished arm, her hand waving cheerfully in the air. Objectively speaking, the healer from St Mungo had truly outdone himself. "Too bad you didn't get a cool scar out of the trouble."

"Don't tell me about it," Lucy giggled. Trying her best to fake normalcy, wasn't she? They could be two to play at that game.

"Though it would have been even better with your magical juice thing," he casually dropped with a bright grin.

"Err, what juice?" Lucy's eyes narrowed comically. He could really see the ressemblance with Andrews now.

"I mean, you could have told me Narnia was an actual thing," Frank sighed dramatically, enjoying her fetching gap of confusion and panic. "That's just mean,  _your Majesty_."

Lucy's gobsmashed expression would entertain him for years. She deserved it, for lying to him for years. But Frank would forgive.

He always did.

.

.

January 1972, Evans Home

_Sister,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. This week my class went to an modern art museum. It was quite tedious, I completely fail to see the appeal of severed heads and pieces of metal randomly assembled together, but I suppose it was preferable to math classes. By a small margin. Abby Gibbons made a compliment on my hair, so not a completely wasted day. It was a kind of loose bun, I'll try it on you when you get back. It might suit you, everything does. Except for the peach color, never do that to my sensitive eyes again._

_Anyway. Nothing much interesting on my side. Mum and Dad are in good health as well. Missing you already. Aunt Celia is coming to visit next week, if you want me convey a message to her. She's very excited about the 'school for the gifted' you got yourself into. Gloating to all her friends, I heard._

_How are things in your end? Do you have schooltrip to go to? I can't imagine it. I hope you made other friends than the Snape nuisances. They're more trouble than they're worth, and you know it. Beside, your houses are rivals, is that it?_

_Also, if you could find a well behaved owl to deliver your letters, I would appreciate it. This one ruined my hair and stole my toast._

_Yours,_

_Petunia_

_PS: I guess you can lay off Snape's back now. He's such an idiot, it's just mean to ask of him to rise himself to normal people's standards._

_._

_._

January 1972, Evans Home, to E. Snape

_Loser._

.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language. 
> 
> Please leave a comment!


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